


One After Another

by slof



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Assassin AU, Betrayal, Blood, Boss Ukai cause yeah, F/M, Fighting, Fucked up pasts, Graphic Fight Scenes, Hanamaki has issues, Hanayachi best friends, I kill minor characters, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Minor Sugawara and Daichi, Not actually that angsty, POV Alternating, Revenge, Tags May Change, There is always shit happening, but also I suck at writing fight scenes so you pick, guns and knives, idk tags honestly, soft
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-16
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-09 06:41:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 33
Words: 131,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27466600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slof/pseuds/slof
Summary: A merge between two organizations only sparks new jobs, relationships, feelings, and opportunities.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou, Hanamaki Takahiro/Matsukawa Issei, Hinata Shouyou/Kageyama Tobio, Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru, Kuroo Tetsurou/Yaku Morisuke, Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi, Miya Osamu/Yachi Hitoka
Comments: 42
Kudos: 115





	1. Recusing Cinderella

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is LONG. Like, really long, but I try to start off as chill as possible 👍 All tagged ships have around the same amount of content. Some more at the beginning, some more toward the end, some just spread throughout. I tried my best with it but working with seven main ships. It was kind of difficult so work with me here sobs. 
> 
> If you're worried about getting into this and it never finishing, don't worry because I've literally finished the entire thing. I just need to think about when I plan each update.

**FEB. 25TH**

With just one step into the old, crumbling building, Takahiro wanted to step out. Nothing about this job that he was being forced to do was something that he was a fan of. Creepy buildings were never the cream puff lover's favorite thing in the world. He'd rather be working Keiji’s job filled with platters of cheeses, delicious pastries being passed out, and bubbly wine filled up to the brim as he conversed with attractive people. God, Takahiro's mouth was watering just at the thought of what he was missing. Though, no. This time, Keiji had the pleasure of getting that job.

  
  


"Next time," Takahiro began to say while he brushed off the cobwebs from his black attire. The turtleneck was really choking him this time, and he was pretty sure he grabbed someone else's instead of his. "Next time, I swear to god, I am going to pull Akaashi's ass from the easier task. I am sick of this hard work shit." He yawned and pulled the folded piece of paper from his pocket to look over exactly what he had to do in this disgusting shit hole of a building. 

It wasn't like Takahiro didn't originally know what he planned to do. He did. Takahiro had read over the notes a few times, however, he didn't like the job, so he didn't care to try and remember it. 

Also, Takahiro was exhausted. He thought more of sleep than his task at hand. _Another_ also, since when did he do jobs? If they wanted to keep him off of the field, don’t randomly throw him to do something just because he wasn’t _as_ tired.

He sighed. His eyes scanned the paper a few times before he fully understood, once again, exactly what he had to do. "I feel bad for anyone locked up in here. I'd carve out my lungs." Takahiro folded the paper and shoved it in his pocket. 

  
  


_"Someone from another agency is tied up inside the building. They’re an ally. Your job is to save them without being detected."_

  
  


"Save them from what?" Takahiro mumbled out loud as he searched the house room for room. "No one is even here." 

Usually, in creepy houses like these, there was a door that led to the basement with a set of spiral stairs. Takahiro hated spiral staircases. You never knew what was going to be waiting for you past the rounded corner, and he could only hope it wasn't going to be a weird, creepy sex dungeon or something like that. 

Soon enough, Takahiro found _the_ door after opening many others to things like a bathroom, two bedrooms, and some weird study room with cluttered papers. His job wasn't to snoop around and gather information, only to get in and get out, though there was a part of him that really wanted to rifle through the papers or at least snag a few and take him with him. Then that other part of him was telling him to quickly get the guy and get out, so he continued his search and headed down the creepy set of stairs. 

They really had to be spiral. Exactly what he hated.

  
  


"Fuck you," he muttered under his breath. He grazed his fingertips on the wall during his walk down, lifting his fingers off it and rubbing them together to watch white chalk-like dust float into the air. "Gross." 

"It is gross." Takahiro's head shot up quickly, and he realized he was at the bottom of the stairs. He hadn’t been paying attention. Daydreaming was pretty normal for him.

Takahiro looked directly in front of him. "Oh, my god," he said. "It _is_ a sex dungeon." 

It was one, medium-sized room that the basement led to, but there was a door on each side to signify other rooms just like the one he was in. In the far back of the room, directly across from Takahiro, was a cell with rusty bars. Behind those bars, inside of that cell, was a man chained to the disgusting, cracking, concrete wall. His head was hung low, dark brown curls all tangled together and falling in front of the face. The guy's hair was so long and messy that Takahiro didn't stand a chance to catch a glimpse at what he looked like.

The chains held his arms up and straight above his head, metal cuffs tight around his wrists leaving red marks surrounding the area they scratched against. Takahiro could see that the metal was rough, clearly cutting into his skin, and he could see how irritated the wrists were from the distance he was at. The man was left shirtless, nothing but a pair of jeans left on him with, thankfully, the belt still there. He looked so malnourished that Takahiro was certain if he didn't have the belt then he wouldn't have had the pants either. His chest and stomach were full of what seemed to be deep slices of a fairly good knife. 

Though, looking closely, Takahiro could spot other scars there. Old ones that were probably months, maybe a year or older. There were a lot of them, covering his arms and torso. Takahiro wouldn’t be surprised if he found a bunch on his back as well. 

  
  


"It's not a sex dungeon." The guy lifted his head a little, and Takahiro could see his beaten, battered face. Blood lined down his cheeks, a black eye or two, a lip split, a deep gash on the left side close to his mouth. He really was beat to shit, and that was saying something coming from Takahiro whose specialty was this type of thing.

His eyes were hard to see given the swelling around them but Takahiro could see his dark brown eyes. They looked tired more than they were in pain ― Takahiro was pretty confident in what both looked like. 

"It's a torture dungeon,” the guy clarified. “I have not had any sex since I got here, I can promise you that."

"I hope to God you aren't getting laid in here. You're gonna get more than an STD."

"Yeah, like depression."

"I'd definitely get depressed if I lost my virginity here,” Takahiro said.

"Are you calling me a virgin?"

Takahiro shrugged. "With that beaten face? I don't think you're getting laid anytime soon."

"Are you gonna keep making fun of me for getting my ass kidnapped and tortured or are you gonna actually help me?"

"Oh, yeah, I should probably get you down." Takahiro pulled a lock pick from the belt that sat around his waist. He unclipped its hold on him and opened the pouch, fingers wiggling in the air as his eyes scanned for the right tools. 

"Oh, no, yeah, take your time. I haven't been here for long anyhow,” the guy said sarcastically. Takahiro chuckled and moved to the front of the cage and pulled out the tools. He was swift when it came to unlocking things, doing things like breaking into Tooru or Atsumu’s offices was quite common for him, but hey, sometimes they had snacks that Takahiro didn’t.

"How long have you been chained up here?" Takahiro asked while working the metal prongs into the keyhole. His tongue stuck out of his mouth as he worked, focusing on successfully unlocking it. He heard the click, and Takahiro pulled out the rods and opened the door. 

"Lost track." 

Takahiro slipped his tools away. "You didn't do any carving with a spoon?" He asked as he walked up to him, reaching up on his tiptoes in order to be able to reach the guy's wrists. 

"Does it look like I've held a spoon recently?"

"Like, cuddling, or the utensil?"

"Wow, you're so fucking funny."

Takahiro cracked a smirk. "I know, right?" He moved the metal through the lock. His body was so close to pressing against the guy's chest. As he worked, Takahiro tried not to come in contact with him. The feeling of cloth rubbing against open wounds wasn’t something that anyone could be a fan of. It didn't help that it was harder to do since he had to reach for it, and it took longer than it normally would have because of it. 

Finally, though, Takahiro heard the click of the chains, and he pulled down the cuffs with him as he planted both feet flat on the ground. "Come on," he said while grabbing the guy's arms. He fell on Takahiro, probably out of his control, his arms resting on his shoulders with a groan of pain leaving his lips. "Damn, take me out to dinner first."

"I'm starving," the guy groaned. "You should take me out to dinner." Takahiro chuckled, and he pulled the guy's arm over his shoulder more. 

"That's probably true." 

  
  


They started to make their way back up the stairs ― stairs that Takahiro hated with a burning passion. The guy's side was pressed tightly against Takahiro given the fact that he probably hasn't walked in a good week or two. He probably couldn't even remember how to walk.

"What's my hero's name?" The guy asked as they reached the top of the stairs.

"Call me Prince Charming, Cinderella."

"God, I want to hit you for that response." 

Takahiro laughed, and he looked both ways in the hallway. They did tell him to be careful while rescuing this guy, though Takahiro didn’t know why. He hadn't seen another soul besides the tortured guy laying on him and he was pretty harmless. 

"Seriously. What the hell is your name?” The guy continued to ask. “What agency are you in?"

"So many questions for a dead man."

"Resurrected man." The guy paused. "Unless you're recusing me to kidnap me."

"No. Sadly, I do not get to hang a man in chains in my sex dungeon."

"You have a sex dungeon?"

"You'll figure out soon,” Takahiro said.

"Mysterious." 

  
  


The two of them got outside, and Takahiro headed straight to his car. Yes. He really didn't care, and he didn't care so much that he parked out in the open where anyone could do something to his car. Maybe he'd get a new one bought for him by his boss if it got stolen, he thought. 

Sadly, it didn't, and Takahiro helped the guy sit down in the back of the small, black car. 

"Is that a condom wrapper?" The guy asked in a low voice.

"More chances of it being a candy wrapper from Halloween."

"It's January."

"It's actually almost March. How long have you been kidnapped?"

"That's still even worse that you still have candy wrappers in here."

Takahiro shrugged, "Eh. It is what it is. You can clean it if you want."

"No, I think I'd rather pass out." The guy fell onto the seat, laying down in the back before quickly passing out without a moment of hesitation.

"Fair." Takahiro hopped in the front seat of the car and started it, taking one look at the unconscious guy in the mirror before driving off.


	2. Too many newbies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Omg boring characters meeting characters chapter

**FEB. 26**

The assassin leaned back in his chair. "How was it yesterday?" He asked.

"Akaashi, I could fucking strangle you." Takahiro rolled his neck and hit his head on the back of the cabinet. He slouched down, sitting on the counter of the kitchen in their building. His head leaned against the cabinet now as he glimpsed up at the white ceiling. “It was boring and annoying as shit, not to mention _gross_.” Keiji didn’t comment as he smirked into his cup, bringing it to his lips while watching his friend have a meltdown. Takahiro lifted his head up and looked at the shorter one who sat at the round table that was pushed into one of the corners. “How was getting groped?” Takahiro questioned.

“Better than dusty rooms and sticky cobwebs,” Keiji replied.

“Fuck you.”

“Ukai would have a problem with that,” Keiji muttered against his cup before lowering it.

Takahiro groaned and hit his head back on the cabinet. “God, I wish I didn’t teach you so well,” he said under his breath.

“Teach me?”

“Yes.” Takahiro jumped down from the counter. “I taught you how to be a sarcastic piece of shit with witty comments. All me, baby.”

“I think it was more like you sparked something in me that was already there.”

“Whatever.”

“ _‘Whatever’_ ,” Keiji mocked. Takahiro glared at him, and the assassin merely chuckled in response, tilting his cup to look in the glass. It was empty, and he stood up with a sigh, walking over to the counter to place his empty cup in the sink. “Ready?” He asked.

Takahiro sighed. “Yeah, sure, whatever. Let’s go.”

* * *

“Who'ddya think we’re gonna meet?”

“We’re just merging,” Takahiro said. He leaned forward in his chair, hands planted on the table as he tried to look past Keiji to Atsumu. “So I assume we’re going to meet people.”

“Yeah, but like, ya think we’re gonna get any hot people?”

“‘ _Hot people’_ ,” Keiji repeated and sighed. “Atsumu, you can’t fuck your co-workers.”

“Not with these standards.”

“I’m perfect, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

The three of them looked at the fourth one that sat in the room. The man was leaned back in his chair on the back two legs, phone in his hand as he half paid attention while doing something on his device. Honestly, he was probably scrolling through Tumblr or Pinterest. He was a Tumblr or Pinterest kind of guy.

“You’re not perfect, Oikawa,” Takahiro said with an interrupting yawn. “Don’t worry.”

“Asshole.”

“Bitch.”

“Twink.”

“Ooh,” Takahiro chuckled, “you haven’t used that one before.” 

“I’m expanding my vocabulary,” Tooru spat.

“Impressive. Does that come with a pedicure?”

“It should.” Tooru leaned toward Atsumu a little. “Mind giving me a pedicure?”

“What?” The twin snorted. “Ya want me to file yer nails and read ya a list of adjectives?”

Tooru shrugged. “Why not?”

“Fuck no, I don’t even know basic adjectives.” Atsumu chuckled. “I don’t even know what an adjective is. I just know it’s somethin’.”

“It’s a describing word.”

“Shut up, Oikawa,” Takahiro said.

Tooru huffed and let his chair legs fall on all fours. “Why am I always the one who has to shut up? Atsumu was literally just talking about fucking the first guy who walks in here.”

“Never said that,” Atsumu began as he raised a finger, “but I’ll fuck the second guy who walks in here.”

“Why not the first?” Keiji asked. 

“‘Cause,” Atsumu said while crossing his arms, “Oikawa said first so gonna fuck the second.”

Tooru was about to complain, shoot back with the first comeback that popped in his head ― it probably wasn'tvery good anyway ― but the door flew open. It was loud; it swung back and hit the wall. They all snapped their attention over, only getting enough time to see who entered before they spoke up.

“Alright, let’s get this over with,” Morisuke muttered. He looked a little tired as he made his way to the other side of Keiji. Plopping down with a groan, he leaned back in his chair, letting his head hit the top of the backrest so he could stare at the ceiling.

“It’s nine AM. Why are you tired?” Takahiro asked which was surprising coming from him but it seemed everyone ignored the irony of it.

“Because,” Morisuke started, “it’s nine AM, and I haven’t been to sleep yet. Not everyone is a tank of energy that can last through almost two weeks.”

Takahiro sighed. He ignored all the eyes on him. Instead, he looked at the last one in their group that usually didn’t speak. “Any input you want to give, Kageyama?” He asked. Takahiro always tried to spark up some conversation with anybody that wasn’t Atsumu or Tooru, the two people in the group that would usually never shut the fuck up.

“No.”

Takahiro sighed once more. “No, of course not,” he muttered.

  
  


The door opened for the second time, but this time, it was their boss who had walked in. Ukai Keishin. He looked around the room to make sure everyone was there before he looked back into the hallway.

“Come on. Introduce yourselves,” he said.

  
  


A man who looked like he actually wanted to be there stepped into the room in front of Keishin. From what Keiji and Takahiro could spot from the angle they were at, the rest of the group standing in the hallway did not seem too enthusiastic. 

“Hey! I’m Bokuto Koutarou,” the guy announced. “What do we introduce?” Koutarou asked as he looked into the hallway. He gave a shrug and put his attention back to the people in the room. “Whatever, I’m a fighter! I can take on a lot of people, and usually, I can go for pretty long.” He put a hand to his chin. “Konoha said it was adrenaline.” Koutarou shrugged. His appearance seemed to match his personality ― hair was crazy, like really crazy. It stood up and perked out like an owl’s horns, the roots were black and the ends were white. He was pretty tall, clearly built, and there was a scar that cut through one of his eyebrows.

Koutarou looked into the hallway where the others stood. “Am I introducing you guys? You look tired,” he asked while looking back at the group of them. 

One of them nodded. He was one of the taller ones. From a distance, he looked pretty normal, though when he stepped into the room, he had something different about him. Maybe it was the way that his eyebrow twitched when Koutarou reached to touch him, or maybe it was the two perfect moles above one of his eyebrows, or maybe it was the fact that he chose to wear a mask. He had messy, curly, dark hair, and his posture was slightly slouched. With his hands shoved deep in his pockets, it was clear by the look in his eyes and how his forehead creased that he did not want to be there.

“Alright!” Koutarou had held his hands up when the guy had glared at him, and instead, he waved his arms to shoo him into the room a little so he could introduce him. “This is Sakusa Kiyoomi. The man _hates_ physical contact. Like, do not touch him, I got stabbed once. He does ― well, everything really. Mainly, he works with figuring stuff out behind the scenes though,” Koutarou explained, and then he shooed Kiyoomi away further into the room without touching him before reaching into the group of people for the next guy.

“Come here, Iwaizumi. You’re next,” Koutarou said while pulling another guy in front of him. 

This guy was shorter, probably around five foot eleven. His hair was dark brown and spiky, and his eyes were green ― a really pretty green. Out of the corner of Takahiro’s eye, he swore he could see Tooru literally drooling. 

“This is Iwaizumi Hajime, our pro sniper!”

“Fuck me.”

“Oikawa, ya said that out loud,” Atsumu said.

“Did I fucking stutter?” Tooru muttered while slowly turning to look at Atsumu beside him. He looked back over and made eye contact with Hajime. “Hi,” he managed to choke out.

“Hi,” Hajime spoke back before being pushed to the side by Koutarou. 

“And next,” Koutarou said as he grabbed another guy. He wrapped an arm around his shoulder, and Koutarou slapped him straight on the chest. The guy had ridiculous black hair, and the two were almost around the same height. He seemed to be Takahiro’s height, maybe even taller. Keiji would say six-two or three for Koutarou, the one with a ridiculous bedhead was maybe an inch shorter. “Kuroo Tetsurou,” Koutarou introduced. “This guy is _crazy_ when it comes to knives. He can throw them, toss them, _make_ them.” He shoved Tetsurou to the side, and then he looked into the hallway. “Hinata?”

This time, one of them jumped into the room. He seemed to be even more excited than Koutarou which took just about all of them for a surprise. What was even more of a surprise was how tall he was. He was pretty ― most definitely ― not anywhere near six feet. Was that five-six? Seven? 

“I’m Hinata Shouyou!” He announced. Shouyou had bright orange hair, a big smile on his face, and wide brown eyes. Keiji could only guess with hair that bright, it would make it pretty hard to sneak around stealthy ― the same could be said about Atsumu and his bleached-blonde hair. He was small, and he looked completely harmless. “My job is usually manipulation or convincing people,” Shouyou said. His happy facial expression dropped. “Not that I would do it to any of you! I use it to get information straight from the enemy without having to resort to violence, until the last minute of course if I need to.” He seemed pretty proud of that.

There was one more person they were supposed to be expecting.

“Come on, dude,” Koutarou muttered to the guy, and he pulled the last guy into the room. The guy had a scar on his cheek, and he seemed kind of sick. He looked so familiar to Takahiro too, but he couldn’t quite lay his finger on it. He was simple looking, dark brown, curly hair, dark brown eyes that matched, thick eyebrows. His posture was slouched, eyelids looked heavy. 

Takahiro leaned over to Keiji a little. “Do you know him?” He asked in a whisper.

“Huh?” Keiji moved his eyes between Takahiro and the guy. “No. Why?”

Takahiro shrugged. “I dunno. He looks familiar.”

  
  


“Matsukawa Issei!” Koutarou finally spoke. “Sorry, he should really be resting right now, but mom ― well, I mean, our old boss wanted us to meet you guys before we officially suspended him for a week to rest.” Koutarou put a soft hand on his shoulder, and he was careful not to toss him around roughly as he had with Hajime and Tetsurou. “Believe it or not, Matsukawa is our best fighter, mainly when it comes to being unarmed. I don’t really stand _much_ of a chance without weapons.” He looked at the other half of the group that he had introduced everyone to. “Anyway, you guys can take it away.”

  
  


Surprisingly, Tobio went first. It seemed he wanted to get it done and over with. “Kageyama Tobio. I work with guns,” was all he said.

“Tobio, ya can be so boring, can’tcha?” Atsumu gave Tobio an unamused glance and sighed. He looked back at the group of new people. “Miya Atsumu, ya betta call me ‘Atsumu’ since there’s two other Miyas round here. I personally work with thievery.”

“Two more?” Koutarou asked, sounding intrigued. “Triplets? Please say triplets.”

“Nah but close. One of ‘em is my stupid twin.” Atsumu leaned back in his chair and flicked his wrist. “The other is his fiancé. She’s too good fer him, in my opinion. He’s an asshole.”

“You have a funny accent,” Shouyou commented.

“I take that as a compliment.” Atsumu looked at Tooru. “Yer turn, ugly.”

“You’re just jealous I’m the prettiest one here,” Tooru replied.

“Akaashi is literally right next to me,” Takahiro said. 

“Shut up,” Tooru snapped, and he sighed. “Oikawa Tooru, analysis, for the moment,” he said as he slightly raised his hand.

“Akaashi Keiji, stealth,” Keiji said, more civilized than anybody there, a simple raise of his hand as he scanned everyone else in the room. 

“Hanamaki Takahiro,” Takahiro said while leaning back in his seat. “Torturer, class clown, the funniest person here besides Oikawa when he makes jokes about him being the most attractive.”

“It’s just getting old at this point,” Tooru muttered under his breath, arms crossed in a pout. 

“Yaku Morisuke. I make the traps and bombs and shit. Can I go?”

Keishin sighed. “In a minute, Yaku.” He reached into his suit pocket and pulled out a yellow envelope. A sharp noise rang in the air from the metal inside the paper hitting together as he tossed it down on the table. “There’s a room key with your name on it for each of you newbies. An office. Everyone here working as an assassin gets one. It's sort of like a luxury payment for constantly putting your lives on the line.

“Communicate, don’t communicate. I don’t care right now. I just know that a few of you will be taking an easy job tomorrow. It’s just something small that I need to be done. You’re free today unless you have paperwork you didn’t fill out yesterday.” Keishin glared at Takahiro with that last statement. The torturer let out a sigh. He had completely forgotten about filling out a report of his little rescue mission. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Takahiro muttered under his breath.

* * *

Takahiro unlocked his office with a yawn and lazily pushed open the door as he grabbed his phone from his pocket. He stared down at the screen while slowly walking into the room, hand reaching for the door getting ready to close it behind him.

“Hey,” he heard, and Takahiro turned to look behind him. There stood that really sick looking guy, the guy that was really familiar to Takahiro. “Need help filling out that report?”

Takahiro turned his head. “Yeah, sure, let me just give you a recording about how it went. Oh, yeah,” he snapped his fingers, “I didn’t take one.”

“Wow, you’re still snappy even when you’re not in work mode.”

“ _‘Still snappy’?_ ” Takahiro mumbled. That’s when it hit him. This was the fucker that Takahiro had saved. “No way,” he said. Takahiro pointed a finger at him. “Cinderella.”

Issei let out a laugh. “Yes, Prince Charming.”

“God, I was joking. Please never call me that.” Takahiro turned and pushed open his door instead of closing it. “Have you eaten?” He asked while walking into his office, plopping down in his office chair and spinning in it to face the door. Takahiro flicked his wrist as a signal for Issei to step in, and the taller male did, stepping into the room as he closed the door behind him. “You still look sick as hell.” 

“Of course, I’ve eaten,” he replied while sitting in the chair across from Takahiro’s desk. “Just not enough to get back apparently.”

“You get a week off of work?”

“Bokuto’s over exaggerating.” Takahiro powered on his computer, fingers quick to fly across the keyboard to type in the password. “I could go on that fucking job tomorrow," Issei said confidently.

“Bet.”

“Bet,” Issei was fast to reply with. Takahiro chuckled. “What?” The dark-haired one asked.

“Nothing. I like you.” 

“You’re already confessing to me?”

“Yeah, we should get married,” Takahiro said while rolling his eyes. He opened the stupid text document he had to work on. Blank. Everything was blank. “Call me ‘babe’, stroke my hair, cook me dinners. God, that would be such a fucking power move of you.”

“I might take you up on that.” Takahiro and Issei made eye contact, and they laughed. “Hurry up and finish that so we can go out to eat,” Issei said, and Takahiro raised an eyebrow. “What? I never got to thank you for saving me and I’m starving.”

Takahiro laughed, eyes looking at the screen to finally begin the stupid report. “Alright, I’m not arguing.” 

* * *

Takahiro stared at the other from across the table, watching as the other lifted an eyebrow while he seemed to fight in his mind with the menu in front of his face. “You gonna stroke out?” Takahiro asked him.

“I’m thinking,” Issei muttered.

“You look like you’re gonna pop a vein in your forehead.”

“That’s probably just because I’m hungry.”

“Well, shit,” Takahiro leaned back in his seat. “Feel free to order the whole menu then.”

“Maybe I will.”

  
  


Issei ended up ordering _basically_ the whole menu, which, it was his money, and the man was starving, but Takahiro had never seen one man eat so much in one sitting. He was almost impressed. The man had eaten two huge burgers loaded with cheese. On the walk home, Takahiro was concerned the other was going to tip over and fall. Not because he was weak, but because he had so much food in his stomach now that Takahiro didn’t think Issei’s body would support his newly increased weight.

“What?” Issei asked once he had noticed Takahiro taking multiple glances over at him.

“Just making sure you’re still walking.”

“Why? You think I’m just gonna fall?”

“I don’t know. You seem like the type of person to just collapse from exhaustion just ‘cause he felt like it.” Takahiro yawned while glancing up at the sky. “Ready for the job tomorrow?”

“You’re taking it?”

“I like doing jobs,” Takahiro replied, eyes still staring at the small, white dots in the sky. He really did like the stars though he would never admit that to anyone. “Also, I like money, and I get a shit ton of that.”

“That’s fair, and you’re planning on bringing me along?”

Takahiro shrugged. “Why not?” He asked. “You gotta start up again sometime.” Takahiro finally looked over at Issei, a teasing smirk on his face. “And I’ll protect you, you little weaky.”

“ _‘Little weaky’._ Wow.”

“Well, you’re―” Takahiro poked him in the side with his finger. Right away he could feel bone. “God, have you no fat?”

“Guess not.”

“I was gonna call you a sexy hunk but you have no meat on those bones.”

“So what am I now?” Issei asked.

Takahiro tapped his chin in thought, a smirk slowly taking over his face. “Sexy Halloween skeleton?”

“It’s March.”

“You only knew that ‘cause I told you, and also, I said it’s _almost_ March.”

Issei rolled his eyes. “Whatever.” He couldn’t help himself from smiling though, watching as Takahiro looked up at the night sky again; watching the small huff of breath shoot out in front of him from the cold, observing the soft pink on his cheeks that nearly matched his hair.

“Now, you’re staring at me,” Takahiro said, snapping Issei from his thoughts.

“Am I? Weird.” Issei looked in front of him as he walked. “I was thinking about what size bowl you used to cut your hair.”

“ _Wow_. I am never going out to dinner with you again.”

“Saddening, truly saddening.” Issei held a fake hand to his heart. “Heart been broken too many times.”

“Dickhead,” Takahiro mumbled while messing with his hair.

“I’m kidding,” Issei said with a chuckle. “You look hot.”

“Okay, now you really need to shut up.”

“Fine, fine. You’ve got the _Matsukawa silence_.”

“Thank you.” 

  
  


It was actually quiet for a bit as they walked, nothing but the sounds of their feet patting against the sidewalk as they went. That was until Takahiro realized he hated silence and he loved talking with Issei regardless if he had just met him. 

“Okay, you can talk now. I hate this.” Issei stayed quiet, only glancing over at him. “Matsukawa, I’m serious.” Still, he remained quiet. “I’m never taking you on a job with me ever,” Takahiro muttered in a pout.

  
  


They reached Takahiro’s apartment building which was when Issei finally said something. He let out a low laugh. “Night, Hanamaki,” he said.

Takahiro rolled his eyes. “Fuck you. Get out of my sight,” he mumbled under his breath as he began to close the door on Issei’s face. Issei laughed again, gave Takahiro a small wave, and he headed down the path of Takahiro’s building. 

Takahiro didn’t realize but he watched him leave through the crack of the door that was still left open, waiting until he was too far down the road to see him. When the other was out of his sight, Takahiro closed the door the rest of the way, then he slipped inside and got ready a pot of hot coffee for the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Twitter @mattsuhana


	3. Simple tasks

**FEB. 27**

“How many people do you need to go?”

Takahiro brought his gaze up to the two others in the room while he leaned against the counter in the lounge. Keishin turned from the fridge and looked up a little in thought from Keiji’s question. The boss shrugged. Keiji swore he never knew anything about what they were doing. _Ever_. He was pretty sure Keishin just skimmed over the work requests that he got and threw it at them for them to figure out. Other times though, he really had his shit together. The duality of one Ukai Keishin was one that Keiji would never understand. 

“It’s just an event we’re holding,” Keishin replied.

“ _We_ are holding? Not somebody else?” Keiji asked.

Keishin nodded. “Yeah, but I want you to know the building in case someone decides to infiltrate it or something. Bomb the building, set fire to it.” Keishin flicked his wrist in the air. “Whatever it is. Dunno. We have people who want us dead.”

Keiji nodded showing he understood, and Keishin turned back to the fridge. 

“You need to bring a cartographer, bring someone who is good at spotting small things, you won’t need someone who is specifically there for fighting considering this is just a job to sketch.” He closed the fridge with a small thing of coffee creamer in his hand. “Maybe bring a sniper so they can see if there are good sniping locations. I want you guys to know the building well. Not a hundred percent just, well enough.”

Keiji started to head to the door, “I’ll get the team ready then.”

* * *

Keiji, with the help of Tooru, gathered all the people that they needed to. He grabbed Koutarou for cartography, he had written on file that he had a history with creating maps. Tetsurou tagged along with Koutarou, he had butted in and asked to come with. Lastly, Hajime went as the sniper to check for good spots. Even though Keiji and Tooru helped organize it, they didn’t go with them. Takahiro chose to tag along, and in reality, he didn’t really need to go and neither did Issei, yet they did. 

If Takahiro was being honest, he just wanted to fuck around with Issei and get him out in the field. Maybe working something small like this to slowly get back in was a good idea. He didn’t even help drive, instead, he shoved Hajime toward the driver seat and said some bullshit along the lines of _‘You’re most coordinated ‘cause you’re the sniper, so you should drive.’_

Takahiro was really just trying to get out of driving, he hated it.

Though he regretted it as he sat in the back with Koutarou and Tetsurou.

“Kuroo, seriously, hand me it.”

“No.”

“Bro, give―” Koutarou leaned over toward Tetsurou who sat in the backseat near the window. He sat by the other window, reaching for a knife, something that Tetsurou had made a while back, “ME.”

“Why do you want it?” Tetsurou asked, his hand holding the knife out in front of him as best as he could so Koutarou couldn’t reach, his other hand pushing the other back down in his seat.

“Hey, fuckers,” Takahiro nervously chuckled, “could you not fight over a knife when I am right in the middle of you two? Really not looking forward to getting stabbed right now. Thanks.” He rubbed his eye with the palm of his hand and looked up to the front of the car. Of course, Issei was looking back at him with a stupid, smug-ass expression on his face. That asshole really called shotgun. 

Thankfully, they were able to get to the building without Takahiro being stabbed by Tetsurou. When they got out, Issei walked up to Takahiro, rested his elbow on his shoulder, and leaned on him a little.

“How was the backseat?” Issei asked with a smirk.

“I hope you like poison in your food, that’s how the backseat was,” Takahiro mumbled under his breath.

“Hey, Hanamaki! What’re we doing again?” Koutarou asked before Issei could say something back. Takahiro would take that as a win considering he got the last word. 

“Bokuto, I’ve explained this a million times,” Takahiro said dully.

“I know but I either wasn’t listening or forgot," Koutarou admitted. Takahiro sighed and looked at the building. It was large and white, and it was located in a somewhat forested area. Honestly, the land was quite beautiful. No wonder they were holding whatever it was they were holding here. Takahiro never looked into the details.

“Here is where we’re hosting for something Ukai has planned.” He looked back at Koutarou and Tetsurou who were admiring the building just as he was. “The job of you two idiots is to map and sketch the building.” Takahiro looked at Hajime. “Iwaizumi’s job is to look for good sniper positions outside.”

“If we’re holding an event then why would we need a sniper?” Tetsurou asked.

Takahiro shrugged. “I think he thinks someone might try and infiltrate the party, and if they do, it’d be good to have you have a spot ready and prepared in case we do need a sniper.”

Hajime nodded. “Got it.”

“You guys ready?” Takahiro asked as he looked back at the crazy duo.

“What are you and Matsukawa doing?” Koutarou pouted. “He’s literally just a fighter. Why does he even need to be here?”

“To get him out in the field again.” Takahiro lightly slapped a hand on Issei’s back, and Issei winced, sucking through his teeth a little. His injuries were still slightly fragile, and he glared at Takahiro. The torturer smirked back at him, successful in his plan to hurt him a little. 

_That’s what he gets for making fun of me for having to sit in the back seat._ Takahiro changed his smirk to an innocent smile as if he hadn’t done anything mischievous and looked back to Tetsurou and Koutarou.

“Go on. Map away.”

* * *

“Atsumu.”

“What?”

“I dare you ― come here.”

“Ya dare me to come to ya? Yeah, gotta pass.” Atsumu scratched the side of his face while frowning down at his phone. It wasn’t that he wasn’t interested in what Tooru was about to say, it was that the email he had just gotten was weird.

“Just come here, would you?” Tooru groaned. 

“Why don’cha come ‘ere? ‘M busy.”

_‘Need you in my office ASAP.’_

Atsumu cocked an eyebrow at the email from Keishin. _‘ASAP means ‘as soon as possible’ so I can take my time goin’ to his office, right?’_ Atsumu thought. 

The twin’s attention was grabbed when his phone was, the device being ripped from his hands and thrown to the sofa that sat in the room. Atsumu had been sitting at a table in the lounge room. Tooru was sitting on the couch but he had gotten up just to toss Atsumu’s phone.

“Hey! I was readin’ somethin’, ya jerk.”

“I dare you to talk to one of the new guys.”

“What?” Atsumu looked around the room. Thankfully, they were the only ones in there. He was sure that the other _‘new guys’_ that Tooru was talking about were in their new offices getting settled in. “Why? Aren’t half of ‘em with Hanamaki anyway?” 

“More than half but there’s still two left,” Tooru said.

“Who?”

“Hinata and Sakusa.”

“Why do ya want me to talk to ‘em?”

Tooru stood up straight, hands on his hips. He shrugged. “I don’t know. Don’t you think you ought to know your co-workers?"

“I do but I always think that yer up to somethin’,” the twin muttered.

“So harsh!” Tooru put a hand to his heart and acted fake offended. “I would never plan anything against you, Miya Atsumu, my dear, beloved co-worker.”

“I hate cha.”

Tooru smiled. “I know.”

* * *

Keiji stared down at the clipboard in his hand. It was the event plans that he had picked up from Keishin’s office that he was going to have to go over with Tooru since Tooru, the analyzer, was the one who was mainly in charge of setting up these types of things. Keiji usually gave Tooru a helping hand in it, so when Keishin saw him in the hallway, he just handed it off to him.

He was walking past the offices when he passed one with the door open. At a desk sorting through a box was one of the new members that joined them. Keiji stepped a foot in the room and knocked on the door. 

“Hey,” he called out. The person at the door looked up from the box of things he had. His hand stopped in the box, then slowly started to pull out a can of Lysol wipes. He had a mask on his face that was pulled to his chin. The black curly hair was neatly parted. “How are you settling in?” Keiji asked.

“Fine,” he replied. “You need something?” He seemed a bit mysterious, secretive, and Keiji was curious about him. Taking one more step in the room, Keiji held the clipboard to his chest. 

“What was your name again?” He asked.

He stared at Keiji for a moment before continuing to pull out things from his box. “Sakusa Kiyoomi.”

“Your specialty was?”

“Communications, fighting,” Kiyoomi answered, chin tilted up slightly as he stared at Keiji.

“The two of those don’t really go hand and hand.” Keiji turned his head a bit in confusion.

Kiyoomi shrugged. “I guess my skills aren’t limited.” Keiji nodded. “Your specialty?” Kiyoomi asked.

“Stealth.”

“Anything else?”

Keiji chewed his lip. “I’m pretty good at acting, I guess? Atsumu teaches me things about stealing sometimes.”

_“‘Atsumu’?”_ Kiyoomi questioned under his breath, and his gaze focused on the box in front of him before he moved his eyes back to Keiji. “That bleached haired one with the undercut?”

“You have a good memory,” Keiji said. 

“It helps with the communication job.”

“I guess it would.” Keiji looked at all the things on Kiyoomi’s desk. Lots of cleaning supplies. Actually, it was all cleaning supplies. Keiji watched as Kiyoomi opened the second drawer and started neatly putting things in there. “Why do you ask about him?” He asked.

“I can’t be curious about the people I’m going to work with?” Kiyoomi defended.

Keiji shrugged. “Fair enough.” He looked down at the clipboard in his hands. “We’re hosting an event in a few days,” Keiji informed.

“Already?”

“I think it has something to do with you new members.” Keiji raised an eyebrow as he read the names on the clipboard. It was a list of the new members as well as the old, plus one he wasn't familiar with. “I’m sure you’ll be ready for it, unlike your other crazy members.”

“I can only assume you’re talking about Bokuto and Kuroo.”

“The ones with crazy hair, right?” Kiyoomi nodded, and Keiji sighed. “Yes, mainly those two.” Keiji took a glance around the room and noticed another box on the ground next to the desk. “Looks like you got a pretty busy unpacking day.” He started to head toward the door. “I’ll leave you to it.”

“Hey,” Kiyoomi called out. With a hand on the door, Keiji turned back and looked at him. “Your name?”

“Akaashi Keiji.” Keiji gave him a wave. “See you around, Sakusa.”

* * *

Despite being immature, mostly when they were together, Koutarou and Tetsurou did a good job of mapping out the building. Takahiro could understand it enough for Issei and him to take a test trip around to make sure.

“Do you not trust that we can make a map?” Tetsurou asked when Takahiro and Issei had gotten out of the building.

“Yeah, this is insulting our intelligence,” Koutarou added.

“You insult your own intelligence by existing,” Takahiro muttered, and he folded the map they drew to stick it in his back pocket. “I think that’s all Ukai wanted us to do.” He looked around, spotting Hajime a few feet away near a tree, staring up at it. “Yo, Iwaizumi!” He called out, and Hajime pulled his attention from the tree to him. “You ready?” They could hear a sigh from Hajime, and he started to walk over.

“Nature is complicated, huh?” Issei asked with a smirk. “You sure looked confused looking at that tree.”

“Shut up.”

“Are you gonna build a treehouse there?” Takahiro added on.

“Shut up or I’m not driving you back.”

“Sorry, Iwa-ceps,” Issei said.

_“‘Iwa-ceps’?”_

“Yeah, like,” Issei poked his arm, “biceps but Iwaizumi.” Hajime sighed. “No?”

“I thought it was good,” Hanamaki chimed in.

“Thank you, Hanamaki.”

“Get in the fucking car so help me God. Let’s go.”

* * *

Tetsurou shoved the bag of things they used for mapping into Koutarou’s hands. “Not it,” he quickly said like a child, putting his finger to his nose. 

Koutarou looked down at the bag, noticing all the equipment in it since Tetsurou didn’t even bother to zip it up. “Are you shitting me?” He mumbled quietly. Koutarou still zipped up the bag and slung it on his shoulder no matter how much he really didn’t want to. He knew the rules of the game. Whoever said _‘not it’_ first didn’t have to do _‘it’_ ― whatever _‘it’_ was at the time.

Tetsurou smirked. “The armory is the first door on the right in the hall past all the offices.” He slapped a hand on the sad owl’s shoulder. “You got it, bro.”

“Fuck off.”

  
  


Koutarou actually listened to what Tetsurou had told him since he had no idea where the armory was. He was kind of glad his friend had explained to him where it was because he would have been roaming the halls or he would’ve had to ask someone else.

As simple as the directions were, Koutarou thought he had gone the wrong way at first. Though, turning the corner, Koutarou saw a sign that read _‘Armoy’_ in front of one of the rooms to the left. He sighed in relief having found the right place and walked over to it, peering in before walking in.

Inside the room by one of the shelves of guns was one of the people Koutarou had met the day he came here, but he couldn’t remember his name for the life of him. Memory was not Koutarou’s strong suit when it came to names and numbers. 

The guy looked away from his clipboard and turned to Koutarou. “Oh,” he said. “Hey.” He put his attention back to his clipboard. There was a quick glance up at the guns, a checkmark written somewhere on the paper with the quick movement of his pen, and then he moved on to the next shelf of guns. He looked back at Koutarou real quick before over at the guns once more. “You need something?”

“Oh, yeah,” Koutarou mumbled, snapping out of his daze. The guy there was just really stunning to him. There was something about him. He was a few inches shorter than Koutarou with messy, black hair and these blue eyes. A dark type of blue like gunmetal. “I gotta return these.” 

Gunmetal blue, which is what Koutarou was going to call him in his head until he figured out his name, looked up and watched the horned owl walk up to the table. It was a table that sat next to the small window where the armorer would usually sit, a sheet of bulletproof glass as a window to separate the two with a small hole to slide through small items.

Koutarou took the bag off his back and set it on the table.

“What is it?” The guy walked up, looking over into the bag as Koutarou unzipped it. “I was wondering where the pair of binoculars went,” he mumbled, lifting the clipboard to look at the list again. Gunmetal blue slid the bag closer to him and started pulling out the things, laying them on the table. “You went on that trip with Hanamaki, yeah?”

Koutarou nodded. 

“I told him he should take you.”

“Me? Why?”

He shrugged. “I dunno. I’ve read that you were a cartographer before you started to get into physical training.”

“You know about me, huh?” Koutarou sat at the table, watching him sort out the things from Koutarou’s bag.

“I’ve read files on the people who just joined, yes.”

“So you know me well? What’s my name?”

“Bokuto Koutarou.” 

Koutarou frowned, and it seemed like it made the guy second guess himself. “What’s your name?” He asked.

“Akaashi Keiji.”

“Akaaaaasshhiii,” Koutarou dragged out. “If you know so much about me, tell me about you.” Koutarou watched as Keiji picked up the binoculars and returned them to where they belonged.

“Me?” Keiji asked, and Koutarou nodded. He sighed and grabbed out measuring tape to which he held up and raised an eyebrow. Koutarou shrugged in return, and Keiji let out another sigh before returning it to its spot in the armory. “I don’t know.”

“Come on,” Koutarou said. “Like, is this what you do? Armorer?”

“Huh?” Keiji grabbed the bag and shook his head. “No, the armorer that’s usually here is out sick today.”

“Then what do you do?”

“Stealth.”

“So you can sneak around and stuff?” Keiji nodded. “So you can do stealth _and_ work with weapons,” he said waving a finger in the air. “Like you must know weapons since you can do inventory on them.”

“I know the names of them, just not how to use every single one of them,” Keiji answered.

“Smart! I only remember the names of weapons that Kuroo gave his own knives,” Koutarou said. “Yesterday he made a new one, and I think he called it _‘Bendy’_.”

Keiji picked up a pair of brass knuckles. “So you don’t know what these are?” He asked.

“Okay, I know what _those_ are, I just don’t know all the different gun types.” Koutarou crossed his arms. “I don’t work with them much. You can’t blame me.”

Keiji chuckled a little. “If you help me with inventory, I can teach you.”

“Seriously?” Koutarou jumped down from the table. Keiji nodded. “Hell yeah.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Twitter @mattsuhana


	4. A party for chatter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Party cause fun times before I start dragging every character

**MAR. 2**

Moving closer to the mirror, the blonde-haired twin squinted at his hair as he brushed it more to the side he preferred ― the opposite side that the other standing in the bathroom next to him usually had. He glanced his eyes over to the right at the man who occupied _his_ restroom. They leaned closer to the mirror as well, shifting their bangs and straightening out their hair.

“Stop lookin’ at me,” the other muttered, backing away from the mirror. He lifted his arm, looking down at his wrist as he fixed his sleeve.

“Sorry, ya look stupid,” Atsumu replied. He continued fixing his hair, running his fingers through it before sweeping it back. 

“We look the same.”

Atsumu shrugged. “Lil column A, lil column B.” He picked up some makeup he had. 

“Yer wearin’ eyeliner?” The other asked.

Atsumu removed the cap, moving closer to the mirror again. His face was a few inches away from it as he carefully applied it. “Yeah,” he replied, and he finished doing both his eyes before he backed away. Atsumu turned his head over at him, handing out the eyeliner. “Want some, ‘Samu?” 

Osamu stared for a few seconds, looking between Atsumu and the eyeliner pen he held out. He sighed and took it from his twin’s hand, mumbling a few things under his breath as he moved to the mirror in the same way to apply it.

Atsumu grinned, leaving the bathroom to his office. He fixed the sleeve on his white button-up and picked up his jacket from off the back of his office chair. Slipping it on, he glanced over as Osamu walked in the room after flipping off the light.

“Why do we hafta match?” Osamu asked as he tugged on his own jacket. Atsumu grabbed the lapels of his jacket and opened it up, staring down at it with a frown. He looked between his own outfit and his twin’s.

“I think we look great,” Atsumu muttered.

Osamu sighed. “Let’s just get.”

* * *

The twins walked through the double doors of the building Issei, Takahiro, Hajime, Koutarou, and Tetsurou had checked out a few days ago. In those three days as the new members worked to settle in, a few new ones were getting to know the old.

Issei hung out with Takahiro as he worked to get him back to full strength, which he successfully did; Keiji and Koutarou had also gotten pretty close, the two were still running over all the things in the armory about the weapons, what things were and what they did. It seemed to slowly be a little bit of a waste of time, but neither of them seemed to care; Atsumu had been bouncing around Kiyoomi a bit trying to strike up conversations. All of them were failed attempts.

  
  


The twins looked around the building, taking in all the beautiful decorations of the large conference hall. There were bright, white lights and long tables filled with food and drinks. In small groups of each corner were round tables with white tablecloths that had flowers set in the middle, chairs surrounded them for people to sit down if they wanted to.

Osamu sighed. “Hanamaki, Akaashi, and Oikawa always hafta go all out while organizin’.” He scratched his face before putting his hands in his pockets. “How much do ya think this all costed?” Atsumu shrugged as he looked around for someone he knew, someone that wasn’t one of the new people that had joined. Not that he didn’t want to spend time with or get to know them, he just wanted to be around some familiar faces.

Atsumu noticed a head of hair he recognized, and he tugged on Osamu’s sleeve. “There, ‘Samu. Akaashi, Hanamaki.”

“With two other people,” Osamu muttered. “Where’s Hitoka?”

“It’s two other people we hafta meet anyway, and I dunno. She’s _yer_ fiance.”

“She said she was gettin’ ready with Kiyoko and Alisa.” Osamu sighed. “And just ‘cause I gotta meet ‘em doesn’t mean I wanna.” 

Atsumu grabbed his brother’s sleeve and pulled him along. “Let’s go, ‘Samu.”

  
  


Atsumu and Osamu made their way up to the people they knew. Takahiro seemed a little happy to see him, smiling at him, but it dropped almost instantly; he raised his glass with a smile, dropping his hand and his expression. 

“Ya lookin’ a little tired there, Makki,” Atsumu said. He crossed his arms, glared at Takahiro. Takahiro bit back a yawn, of course he had to yawn right when Atsumu brought it up. He flicked a wrist at Atsumu, waving him off.

“Nah, I’m good,” Takahiro said, and he looked over at Osamu. “Hey, ‘Samu.” 

“Hanamaki, how goes the slumber?” Osamu asked.

“Shut up,” Takahiro muttered quietly. Instead, the torturer pointed to the tall guy standing next to him. Dark, curly hair, parted to the side, black suit with a yellow button-up underneath. It was that one guy that Atsumu had been dying to figure out a way to talk to the last three days. There was something about him that made Atsumu curious about him.

Also, Atsumu said he’d fuck the second guy who had walked into the room that day, and this guy was, in fact, the second person to walk into the room.

“You idiots should properly meet,” Takahiro said while raising the glass to his lips, slowly sipping it down. His eyelids felt a little heavy, though he wasn't going to tell that to anybody, even though, at a point, it became obvious. _‘Sixth days are always when it starts to get hard.’_ Takahiro cursed at himself in his mind. He elbowed the dark-haired guy in the side, and he flinched a little, cringing away while he furrowed his eyebrows. “Introduce yourself, idiot.”

He sighed. “Sakusa Kiyoomi.”

Atsumu smiled. He was going to hold out a hand, but when he saw the way that he reacted when Takahiro had elbowed his side, he decided against it. “Miya Atsumu.” Atsumu slapped a hand on Osamu’s back. “This is my twin, Miya Osamu.” 

Osamu kicked him in the shin, and he gave Kiyoomi a wave. “Sup,” he said.

“Bokuto,” Takahiro said while looking at them. “Your turn.” 

“Bokuto Koutarou!” Koutarou went first. “I remember seeing you,” he said while pointing at Atsumu. “Hinata pointed out your accent.” Atsumu nodded. “Do you both have the same accent?”

“Sure do,” Atsumu said. “Go on, ‘Samu. Try’n be funny.”

“Yer a prick.”

“See?” Atsumu elbowed him in the side. “Not funny, tryin’ to be.” 

  
  


During the conversation, Keiji would continuously peek over at Takahiro, glare at him when he’d yawn. Takahiro could feel the eyes bore into the side of his skull, but after all this time, he had gotten pretty used to it. 

“I would remember a set of twins,” Koutarou said while pointing to Osamu. 

“I wasn't at that first meetin'; I work in the kitchen,” Osamu replied.

“Ooh, the kitchen,” Koutarou said. “So all the food here was made by you?”

Osamu chuckled. “No.” He looked around at the food on the tables. Near all the snacks was a table that had a large plate of onigiri on it. He pointed over to it. “I made those though.”

“Onigiri?” Koutarou asked, and Osamu nodded. “Woah, can I get some?” The excited assassin looked over at Kiyoomi before Osamu could answer. “You want some? I’m gonna get some.”

“No,” Kiyoomi said.

“What about you, Akaashi?” Keiji’s eyes lit up a little, and Atsumu groaned. He knew Keiji’s love and weird addiction that he had toward his brother’s onigiri. Keiji nodded, trying to keep his excitement on the down-low.

“Hey, Bokuto, grab me a creampuff, or two, or ten, or the whole damn pan,” Takahiro said, quicker and quicker as he spoke. Koutarou nodded, and he left to the snack tables.

* * *

Koutarou headed to the table, looking around at all the food; he wriggled his fingers while his eyes scanned over as if he didn’t know what he was getting even though he had a clear list of things to retrieve: _onigiri and creampuffs._

“You look confused about food.”

Koutarou looked over, stopping mid-air while reaching to grab a plate. He stared at the guy who called out to him, slowly grabbing a hold of a plate that he would soon begin piling food on top of. “Hey, you’re short!” He said while looking down at him. The guy’s eyebrows furrowed. There was a taller guy next to him who laughed, putting a hand on his shoulder.

“Calm down, Yaku,” he chuckled. “He doesn’t know any better.”

_“‘Know any better’?”_ The short one repeated. “I don’t care. I’m gonna kick his ass now.” The other one rolled his eyes and looked at Koutarou. He rested his arm on the short one’s shoulder and gave a slight smirk.

“You’re―” He snapped and pointed his finger at Koutarou. “Either Kuroo Tetsurou or Bokuto Koutarou.”

“Definitely not Kuroo. He’s an ass,” Koutarou said. 

The guy smiled. “I’m Oikawa Tooru,” he said, and he pointed a thumb at the short guy next to him. “That’s Yaku Morisuke.”

“Oikawa, Oikawa, Oikawa,” Koutarou repeated under his breath, hand on his chin. “I remember you. You called out for Iwaizumi to fuck you when we first met.” Morisuke laughed at Tooru who looked down at the ground. Koutarou looked at Morisuke. “I don’t remember you though.”

“I was quiet,” Morisuke replied.

“Well, what do you do?” Koutarou said, and he turned to the table, looking at everything and trying to find what he was told to get. He picked up a few onigiri, setting them on the plate before he picked up one for himself to stand there and eat.

Morisuke sighed. “I make bombs and traps.”

“Really?―” Koutarou looked down at his food. “Man, this is really good.” Back to Morisuke. “Anyway, really? Could you make a bomb that, like it shoots out food or something?”

“I―” Morisuke stuttered, and he looked over at Tooru. “Is he serious?” Tooru shrugged lightly, picking up some small desserts from the table before tossing it in his mouth. “If I tried, maybe I could,” he answered, looking back over at Koutarou whose eyes lit up.

“Awesome!” Koutarou turned and scanned the table again. “Hey, that Hanamaki wanted creampuffs. Do you know where they are?” Morisuke sighed.

“Of course,” Tooru groaned. “Of course, he asked for those.” Tooru turned and pointed to a table by the left. “Over there.”

“Thanks! See you around, Oikawa, Yaku!”

* * *

Hajime softly patted Issei on the back. “Hey, idiot,” he said. “How are you feeling?”

“Why are you asking me?” Issei mumbled, and he looked down into the small glass of liquor he had. He spun it in his hand, watching the stainable drink almost spill over the rim of the glass.

“Because,” Tetsurou chirped in. He came up behind Issei, resting a hand on his shoulder. The bedhead reached over, snagging the drink from Issei and taking a sip before placing it back in the palm of Issei’s hand. “You’re hurt.”

“I’m not hurt,” Issei replied. He was unphased by the other stealing his drink and handing it back, Tetsurou did that a lot. During parties, he’d never have his own drink, only walked around and stole others. It either got him really drunk from the range of liquors or he was the one to drive everyone home.

“You were kidnapped and tortured,” Hajime plainly said as if Issei didn’t know.

“Okay,” Issei said before taking a sip of his drink real quick, “and I’ve had more than enough time to heal.”

“You still wince when someone touches your shoulder.”

“That’s because while I was chained up to the ceiling, they decided, _‘Hey, let’s stab him in the shoulder’._ ”

“You say it like that’s a normal thing,” Tetsurou said.

“Don’t you get stabbed in every fight?” Issei asked.

“Yeah,” Tetsurou said. “But I always get stabbed. It’s normal for me.” Issei rolled his eyes, and he walked off to a table, sitting down. Hajime and Tetsurou followed him with Tetsurou talking their ears off.

  
  


Issei leaned on the table, face in his palm. Every once and a while he’d lift the glass to his lips, take a small sip, continue staring at the flowers on the table in front of him. He got bored and plucked one out, rolling the stem of it between his fingers.

“Sad and lonely over there, Matsukawa?” Tetsurou asked. He leaned forward with a cheeky grin.

“Naturally,” Issei replied.

“Why are you looking at the flower as if you want to marry it?”

“I’m bored, that’s why.” Issei sighed and sat up straight, setting down the glass. It was nearly empty. “What is this event for even?”

“Getting to know the others, I think. Like a welcome party for us,” Hajime replied, eyes looking all around the room. He frowned. “Bokuto is acting weird by the snack table with two of the other members that were already here before.” He sighed and looked back at the table in front of him, tilting his own glass that had sat on the table to look in it. “I hope he isn’t causing too much trouble.”

Tetsurou leaned over to Hajime a little, pushing into his side a little. “What about Sakusa? How is Sakusa? Is he hiding in some corner yet?”

“No,” Hajime said. “No, he’s actually over there talking to some of the other members, plus two I’ve never even seen before.” He made a small hum in thought. “Even two I didn’t even see at that introduction meeting a few days ago.” Even Issei glanced over, looking to where Hajime was looking and where Tetsurou put his attention. 

Issei noticed Takahiro first, he stood next to the bleached blonde that was at the introduction meeting. Then there was a tall man there, and he _looked_ like the bleached blonde except with different hair color and style. The _Miya Atsumu;_ the one with the accent; the one who said he had a twin, Issei guessed this was the other was the twin.

A woman stood beside the unintroduced twin. She was short ― really short and had blonde hair that went a little past her shoulders. Her outfit was a beautiful white dress and heels, a slightly loose bracelet around her wrist, and from the distance they were at, it was kind of hard to see but there was a ring sitting on her ring finger.

Kiyoomi stood off to the side, Atsumu was standing next to him. They were still a few inches separated from each other, but he was still standing the closest. Issei could tell he was trying to keep his distance despite not knowing about Kiyoomi’s serious mysophobia.

“Does he know about Sakusa’s phobia?” Issei still asked. Kiyoomi never usually brought it up. He didn’t think he would just randomly talk about it either especially to people he just met, but the bleached-haired guy still looked as if he knew. 

“No, I don’t think so,” Hajime mumbled. 

“He looks like he knows though,” Tetsurou mumbled. “You think Sakusa told him?”

Hajime shook his head. “No, he barely talks to other people that aren’t us.” He slightly shrugged. “Maybe the guy figured out. I don’t know.” Hajime pushed aside his empty glass and looked over at Issei. “Hey, what about that other guy?”

“Which one?”

“The one with the pink-tinted hair; the one who saved you; the one who you get along with _so_ well; the one you’ve been hanging out with―”

“Shut up,” Issei cut him off. “What about him?”

“You get along so well with him,” Tetsurou repeated for Hajime, a smirk on his face.

“Okay and.”

“Whipped,” Tetsurou mumbled under his breath, resting his arm on the back of the chair as he leaned back, looking off around at the other people at the event. 

Issei glared at him. He looked down in his glass, noticing nothing but only a sip left, so he did as clearly any normal person would do and tossed his drink at Tetsurou from across the table. It hit him straight in the face, dripping down onto the cloth as the assassin quickly leaned over the table so that the liquor wouldn’t run down all over his nice suit. 

“You are shitting me, Matsukawa,” Tetsurou hissed under his breath.

“Ooh,” Issei said. He set the now empty glass down. “That glare. Scary.” 

Tetsurou glared, closing his eyes more to squint at him. “I’ll fucking get payback.” 

“Can’t wait.”

* * *

Keiji stared down at the empty plate, scattered on it was a few pieces of rice. He sighed and looked around, the welcoming party was still crowded, just not as much as it was when they first got there. Some workers had gone home after a few hours like the secretary Alisa that said she had a lot of work to get done and the Miya couple. 

He looked up when another plate was set on top of his, and his back straightened out in attention. “Oh,” he quietly mumbled, noticing the plate full of onigiri. “Thanks, Bokuto.” 

Koutarou smiled and sat down in a chair at the table he sat at. “No problem. You looked like you wanted more.” Keiji nodded and picked up the onigiri, biting into it without a second of thought. Maybe he did have a weakness. “So, Akaashi, what are you doing here sitting by yourself?”

“Hanamaki is in the bathroom,” Keiji replied while flicking his wrist. “Atsumu is talking with Sakusa, other Miyas went home, Oikawa and Yaku are off tormenting others.” He sighed. “I should probably check on Hanamaki soon,” he said quietly.

“Huh?” Koutarou turned his head a little, watching as Keiji took another bite. “Why would you need to check up on him? Can he not go to the bathroom by himself?”

“No,” Keiji sighed. “No, it’s not that.” He stood up and ate the rest of the onigiri he was eating. With a stretch, he groaned and sighed. “I’ll go check on him.”

  
  


Keiji headed to the bathrooms, a little speed in his step. Takahiro had been in there for longer than he should’ve, and the conscience on Keiji’s shoulder yelled at him for not checking before. He walked up to the door and pressed his hand flat to it. With a deep sigh, Keiji prepared himself for what he would run into on the other side.

Pushing open the door, Keiji stepped in and closed it behind. He cursed under his breath at the sight and wished to god that there was a lock on the door. Unfortunately, it wasn’t a single bathroom meaning anyone could walk in at any time.

“Hanamaki.” Keiji walked into the bathroom to the far corner where Takahiro was there, curled up in a call, arms hugging his legs as he stared blankly at the floor in front of him. Takahiro was shaking, taking short breaths in and out. They were slow and shallow. 

“Takahiro.”

“What?” The voice was cold, gruff, and low.

“What did you do?”

“Nothing,” Takahiro muttered weakly. Keiji didn’t buy it, and he grabbed onto Takahiro’s cheeks and lifted them up. They were a bit cold, and Keiji reached up further, running his thumbs on the bags under Takahiro’s eyes. “Go away,” Takahiro whispered.

“No.” Keiji sighed and put the back of his hand to Takahiro’s forehead. “We’re going home, and you’re going to―”

“No, I’m not.” Takahiro pushed Keiji back, and it only knocked him back so that Keiji’s feet staggered back. He had to use his hand to catch him from falling on his ass. “No, it’s only been six days.” Takahiro stood up, using the counter to boost himself up. 

Takahiro moved to stand in front of the mirror at the sinks. He turned on the water, cupping his hands underneath it to splash water on his face. After a few splashes, Takahiro looked at himself in the mirror, sighing deeply. 

“I’m fine,” he quietly muttered under his breath. “Fine.” Keiji was still kneeled down where he had been pushed back, and Takahiro walked over to him, holding out a hand. “Sorry, I pushed you,” Takahiro spoke quietly and softly, and he pulled Keiji to his feet.

“If you’re sorry, you’ll listen to me and do what I ask.”

“No.” Takahiro started to head to the door.

“Hanamaki, I’m not doing it to hurt you--”

“Akaashi, can we just―” Takahiro sighed. “Can we just go? I want to get this party over with now.”

Keiji stared off at the ground as if he had expected a different answer from the torturer. Of course, his plan to get Takahiro to listen to him was unsuccessful. “Fine.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Twitter @mattsuhana


	5. Bokuto and Hinata, a duo in trouble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little issue that the duo Bohina run into plus some more "what the fuck is Hanamaki's problem" thingz

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW // Hint of drug use

**MAR. 5**

Keishin looked over the email that had been sent to him and stared at the screen as he leaned forward a little. It was a request for a job for someone from his organization to take over for a fairly large amount of cash. The problem he had that made him chew on his fingernails while reading was that he wasn’t sure who to put on it especially since his department had acquired a larger branch of new, talented people.

“You look like you’re struggling a little.”

“Quiet, Oikawa,” Keishin muttered.

“I’m just saying,” Tooru said while putting his phone down. He leaned his elbows on the desk in an effort to get a glance at Keishin’s computer screen. “Come on, Keishin. Let me have a look.” Keishin sighed and turned the screen, tilting it to more of Tooru’s view so that he could have a read at it. Tooru sat on the edge of the chair, his eyes scanning over the email. He read it carefully, chewing his lip while trying to think of the best possible way to help Keishin pick out who he wanted to carry out the requested job. 

It was an email from one of the other large corporations they worked together with quite frequently. Apparently, two of their members had gotten kidnapped and they wanted them to help get them back.

“Well, Akaashi and Atsumu are good at stealth,” Tooru pointed out.

“I know that,” Keishin muttered. “I just want to try and utilize the others.” He sighed and leaned his elbows on the desk, rubbing his temples with a groan. “Though I can’t remember who is good at what. We got like five new members.”

Tooru sighed. "Seven, actually, but only six of them fight," he corrected, tilting the screen around fully so he had control of the screen. He did the same with the keyboard and mouse. Quickly, he found his way to the information about the new members. “Well, Bokuto and Mattsun are good at fighting.”

“Both of them are?”

Tooru nodded. “Though Mattsun is better at fighting hand-to-hand and one-to-one combat, Bokuto is better at full out fighting and dealing with more than one person; while Mattsun is logical with his fighting and uses strategy, Bokuto kind of just goes wild.”

_“‘Full out fighting’?”_

“Yeah.” Tooru nodded once again. “Apparently, their doctor had called it _‘adrenaline fighting’_ where he just goes solely off adrenaline while fighting, usually killing or beating everyone until he just runs out of energy completely.” 

Keishin hummed and nodded. “Their doctor? What was his name again?” 

Tooru clicked around for a bit. “Konoha Akinori. He graduated pretty early, a lot earlier than most people do. _Really_ smart.”

“He’s here with us?”

Tooru nodded. “Yup. I think he’s still settling in a bit.” Tooru moved back to look at the rest of the people. “Kuroo is good at fighting as well, he just only uses knives. Apparently, he refuses to use guns.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, it―” Tooru’s eyes widened a bit in surprise. “Apparently, he’s afraid of them.”

Keishin scoffed. “That’s a bit ironic.”

“Yeah, no kidding,” Tooru muttered. “Then there’s Sakusa, and the information about him is―” Tooru paused for a moment. “Strange.”

“How so?”

“There’s just not a lot of information. It just says he does communication work, but that’s all it says.” Tooru shrugged. There was definitely more to Kiyoomi than what the report had said, and he was damn curious, but he moved past it. “Then there’s Hinata who’s good at talking his way through things. Manipulation.” Tooru leaned back in his seat, crossing his leg over the other as he crossed his arms. “You want to know what I personally think?”

“Please.”

“Bokuto and Hinata.”

“Really?”

Tooru hummed. “Based on what this email said, they’re not sure if these people are the ones responsible for kidnapping their members. So if we send in Hinata, he can manipulate his way past. Bokuto can be there as a helping hand in case Hinata gets in trouble.” Tooru’s eyes scanned the email again. “Hinata isn’t incapable of self-defense, actually, he’s kind of good at it. Apparently, he can go three-on-one but that’s the most he can do.”

Keishin scoffed. “Three-on-one? That’s still pretty impressive.”

“Not as impressive as from what I’ve read about Mattsun.”

“What’s his?”

Tooru squinted at the screen. “Well, they’re actually not sure because he hasn’t been defeated, but the most amount of people he’s taken out by himself is―” Tooru swallowed. “Fifteen.” 

“You’re shitting me? I thought you said Matsukawa was more of a one-on-one type of fighter and Bokuto did more of that stuff?”

“It depends? It seems they’re both equally good ― Matsukawa might be better at one-on-one than Bokuto, and Bokuto might be better at taking on more people than Matsukawa is ― but they’re pretty equal. The only difference is Matsukawa is more defensive and can handle taking more attacks, meanwhile, Bokuto is offensive and throws himself into a fight.” 

“If Matsukawa can take on one-on-one better, why don’t you think he’d be better than Bokuto to help Hinata? Wouldn’t someone defensive be better since he’s going in to help protect Hinata?” Keishin questioned.

“Apparently, Matsukawa isn’t as good at acting as Bokuto is. It says in their files that Bokuto has done a lot of acting work with Hinata before, so they’re accustomed to each other. Matsukawa is more _‘quick work and get it done’_ then _‘slowly easing his way carefully through a job’._ Also, have you seen him? He’s got this resting bitch face to him.” 

Keishin nodded. “Alright, that works.”

Tooru turned the screen back to where it was supposed to be as well as the keyboard. He sighed and stood up. “So do you expect me to tell them?” He asked. 

Keishin sighed, reaching to the keyboard and clicking two keys at the same time. Behind him, there was a printing noise, and the part of the desk that curled around Keishin ― he had a desk that surrounded whoever was sitting in it. The printer slowly pushed out papers, and Keishin scooted his chair back, snagging the paper from the machine before handing them to Tooru. 

Tooru took them with a sigh. “I’ll deliver them.”

* * *

Koutarou stared down at the papers that had just been handed to him. He read over them as quickly as he could with Tooru still standing in front of him. “So a rescue mission with Hinata?” He asked, looking up from the paper. Tooru, who stood on the other side of the desk where Koutarou sat with his arms crossed, nodded his head. 

“Kind of," Tooru said. "If the people you’re looking to rescue aren’t there, you just lay back and play out the rest of the night.”

“Nice.” Koutarou let the paper fall on the desk, and he got back to his computer, clicking a few buttons before his game started up again. “After I do this.”

Tooru planted his hands on the desk and leaned forward, trying to get a glance at Koutarou’s screen. “What are you doing?”

“Playing a game,” he muttered. “When do we have to go?” Koutarou asked, eyes staying locked on his monitor.

“Three hours.”

“Sweet.” Koutarou got closer to the screen. “I can play this for a bit.”

Tooru sighed. “Alright then.” He started to make his way to the door.

“Hey, wait, Oikawa,” Koutarou called out, backing his chair from his computer as he looked over at Tooru by the door. Tooru paused and turned back, looking at Koutarou. “You’ve been friends with Akaashi and Hanamaki for a long time, right?” 

Tooru nodded. “Yeah, around six years or so. Why?”

“What was up with Hanamaki at the event?”

“The welcoming party two days ago?” Tooru asked, and Koutarou nodded. “What do you mean what was up with Makki?” Tooru took a small step closer. “What happened?”

“Well, Akaashi said he had to go check on Hanamaki in the bathroom.”

“Makki? Did you see him come out?”

Koutarou nodded. “Yeah, he looked kind of sick but he was acting alright.” He put a hand on his chin. “It was kind of obvious he was acting.” 

“I see,” Tooru mumbled. “Okay ― alright, just make sure you get ready on time. I gotta go.”

* * *

Tooru circled around Keiji’s office in front of the small couch he had. Atsumu sat on the couch, watching Tooru pace around the room while he ran his fingers through his hair. He seemed angry, or maybe it was some type of confused worry. Morisuke sat on the counter in the office, swinging his feet as he stared down at them.

“Oikawa, are ya gonna calm down?” Atsumu asked, and he kicked his feet up on the couch, crossing them as he put his arms behind his head. He stared up at the ceiling, chewing on the inside of his cheek.

“No,” he replied, and he looked over at Keiji. His gaze was hard, eyes glaring into the side of his head. Keiji wasn’t looking at him. He was too focused on typing something on his computer to be paying attention to Tooru’s little episode. “Akaashi, when were you going to tell us?”

"I didn't really plan on it," Keiji said. "I just tried to get him to sleep. He refused. That's all there is to it," he explained.

“He should just _fucking sleep,_ ” Tooru angrily spat, and Keiji nodded. 

“I’m not arguing with that, Oikawa.” Keiji sighed and leaned back in his chair. He pulled up his feet, tucking them underneath him as he scratched the side of his face. “I checked his office yesterday and found an empty bottle of meds.”

“What was it?”

Keiji shrugged. “He tore the label off, but I can only assume it’s something to keep his consciousness.” He sighed. “I’m not even sure about his tolerance for drugs anymore.” He looked at his screen and reached for the keyboard, striking the enter key before he leaned back the chair. 

“Sit down, wouldja?” Atsumu sat up, grabbing ahold of Tooru’s arm when he walked by. He yanked him down to sit on the couch next to him. “Makki is alright.” He sighed. “For now, I guess,” he quietly muttered under his breath. 

“We need to knock him out soon,” Tooru said.

“I agree, but he’s gonna think it’s kinda early,” Atsumu replied.

Tooru shrugged. “I don’t really care what Makki thinks about it.” He put his attention to Keiji at the desk. “Akaashi, you in?”

Keiji sighed, resting his head on the back on the chair’s back with an additional groan. “Yeah, I’m in. When?”

“Lunch? When he’s distracted,” Tooru requested.

"I can make a knockout gas bomb," Morisuke chimed in. "It would be small, and we could toss it in the room and lock him in," he explained. "It sounds cruel when you say it out loud and know who we're talking about but there's not really another option," Morisuke added on in a sad tone. He stayed sitting on the cabinet and swinging his feet. One of the last things that Morisuke wanted was to exchange sad looks with his friends.

Tooru shared a glance with Keiji who shrugged. He looked back over to Morisuke who was still not looking up at anyone. "That could work," Tooru said. "You can have it ready by lunchtime?"

Morisuke nodded, "Of course."

“After the mission Bokuto and Hinata have,” Atsumu added in. 

“Good point,” Tooru said. “Bo and Shouyou might bring in someone for him.”

“‘Right,” Atsumu nodded. “After.”

* * *

Koutarou tugged on his jacket, straightening the lapels on the jacket as he looked in the mirror. He ran his fingers through the damp hair, running it back a little. With a slight frown, he picked up a bottle of hair gel and coated them on his fingers. He ran his fingers back through his hair, slicked it back, and smiled with a grin when he was pleased with what he did. With a quick smile at his work in the mirror, Koutarou washed his hands and dried them off on a soft towel.

He popped his head out of the bathroom to his co-worker who sat working on the couch. The black-haired guy had his legs pulled into a crossed position, papers spread out on the cushions around him. He glanced up as Koutarou peeked his head in having felt someone having their eyes on him when Koutarou had begun looking.

“You look nice,” Keiji said, and he sat up a little, setting down the paper on the couch into a pile. “You and Hinata?”

Koutarou nodded, and he stepped into the room, leaning on the couch a little at what Keiji was doing. “Yup! Hey, what are you doing?”

“Huh?” Keiji’s eyes scanned the papers in front of him. “Oh, damage reports.”

“‘Damage reports’?”

“Like, if any weapons, or outfits, or buildings, or whatever is damaged, this is where all the data is. I just need to sort it.”

“Sort it into what?”

“Right now, by what was damaged.” Keiji pointed to a pile. “There are the weapons,” then another pile, “that one is outfits,” another, “people―”

“‘People’?”  
  


“Like,” Keiji picked up the file and started to shuffle through it. “Here.” He handed Koutarou a paper, and the owl looked over it, eyes scanning, words flying over his head. Koutarou was bad at reading paperwork. He always lost interest in the first sentence. “That’s the injury report and file from when Matsukawa got kidnapped for almost a month.” Keiji snagged the paper from Koutarou. “You should get ready to go. Oikawa is gonna be mad if you’re late.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” Koutarou stood up straight and sighed. “He’s so ― what’s the word?” Koutarou frowned.

“Controlling?” Keiji asked.

“Yeah! That sounds like him.”

Keiji chuckled. “Go now before he comes in here yelling at you.” 

Koutarou leaned on the back of the couch. “Hey, we’re still on for the dinner date tonight, right? When I come back?”

“I told you, Bokuto.” Keiji looked up at him. “It’s not a dinner date.”

“Then what is it?” Koutarou smirked, and Keiji flicked him in the forehead. “Ow.”

“I’m teaching you. You wanted to learn all the gun names, that’s what I’m helping you with.” He looked back down at his papers, reading the one on the top before picking it up and placing it in its pile. “Don’t make me regret it,” he muttered.

Koutarou groaned. “Ugh, fine, but soon it’ll be dates,” he said while heading to the door. Keiji held his bottom lip between his teeth, fighting back an annoying smile as well as the searing feeling beginning in his cheeks. “See you later, ‘Kaashi!” Koutarou ran out of Keiji’s office, and Keiji relaxed, letting the smile come out, the red fill his face.

“Idiot.”

* * *

Koutarou stepped out of the car, smoothing his hands down the front of the suit as he kicked the door closed with his foot. Shouyou was already up and out, rounding around the car to meet up with Koutarou. He smiled at him, drowning Koutarou in the sunshine of his wide grin. Koutarou sent one back. “Ready?” He asked.

“Yup!” Shouyou chimed. “Let’s go.”

  
  


They headed into the building side by side, walking in and passing a smile to the hostess at the door. Shouyou gave him a wave as they passed her. “Hey, Bokuto?” Shouyou asked suddenly.

“Mhm?” Koutarou snuck a glance at Shouyou, but he wasn’t looking over at him. His eyes were focused on walking in front of him, passing the people in the hallway on the way to the ballroom. It was a simple party, and the two of them honestly had no idea what it was for exactly. They only knew their plan: get information about their allies, and if they were there, rescue them. If not, play the acting role for the rest of the night. As they made their way through the hallways, they could see it was something for new recruitments, which didn’t look too good for _their_ organization considering they were a possible enemy.

“If one of us is supposed to be distracting and one of us is supposed to be sneaking around, why didn’t they bring Akaashi instead of me? I mean, isn’t he the one who does stealth?” His eyes narrowed, squinting in thought. “Or was that Atsumu, the one with the accent?”

Koutarou shrugged. “Yeah, Akaashi is the one who does stealth.” Koutarou opened the door to the ballroom and held it open for Shouyou who gave an even bigger smile with a nod before walking in. “Though I have no clue. It was Oikawa’s idea.”

“Guess we’ll have to ask him when we get back then,” Shouyou said while glancing down at the watch on his wrist. “We have to find out if they have those two people, right?”

“Yup, and I’m just here in case something goes wrong, and if we can kidnap someone, Ukai said to do it because they have a torturer.” Koutarou’s eyes lit up. “Oh! That reminds me.” Koutarou pulled his phone from the pocket in the inside of his jacket, going to an app that Kiyoomi had installed on his phone for him. He clicked a green button on the screen.

_“God, I thought you forgot.”_ The voice said on the other end.

“Don’t worry, Sakusa! I’ve got a great memory!” Koutarou said into the small earpiece.

Kiyoomi sighed. _“I highly doubt that.”_

“Hey!”

_“Just hurry up and get in and out. I have things to do.”_

“Sakusa, I highly doubt you have to clean your entire apartment again,” Shouyou said into his own earpiece.

_“Shut up. Get your job done.”_

  
  


Koutarou and Shouyou got started with exactly what they had to do right away mainly because Koutarou seemed to be rushing them a bit.

“Why are you so pushy with this?” Shouyou muttered to Koutarou, elbowing him in the side a bit to get his attention. 

Koutarou pushed his lips together as his gaze slowly shifted from a man across the room to Shouyou. “I just want to get it done,” he replied, moving his attention back to the man. “That’s all,” he added with a shrug.

“Yeah, right.” Shouyou laughed. “We all know you’ve been hanging out with Akaashi recently.”

“What?”

“You heard me.”

“No, well, I―” Koutarou stuttered on his words until he gave up and let out a huff. He set his glass on the table. “I’m going to the bathroom.”

  
  


Koutarou headed to the bathroom, leaving behind a smirking Hinata Shouyou alone by the snack tables. He walked straight in, heading right to the sink to wash his face with water. Maybe it was true that Koutarou was rushing this a little just so that he could go back and have that dinner date with Keiji or whatever it was. It didn’t matter to Koutarou, he just really wanted to spend time with Keiji.

  
  


_“Can you act professional?”_

“Shut up,” Koutarou mumbled into the earpiece. He stared down at the sink, washing his hands repeatedly as if he needed to. It was some nervous habit he had where he just needed to do something with his hands. From the position of the small, hidden camera that was on Koutarou’s suit, Kiyoomi had a look at the mirror, able to see Koutarou’s confused, concentrated expression as he frowned down at his own hands.

_“Hinata was right.”_

“I said shut up, Sakusa.”

_“Whatever_ ― _Bokuto.”_

“What? Leave me alone.”

_“Bokuto, don’t look up, just swing behind you.”_

Koutarou froze. His hands stopped, the running water splashing on his hands. Now that he paid attention, he could feel it. The feeling of someone standing right behind him as if they were waiting for Koutarou to make one incorrect move.

He slowly went to reach into his pocket, there was a small knife he had tucked into his suit, but his arms were grabbed and he was pulled back. Koutarou wanted to snap; he wanted to go crazy; he wanted to throw an elbow back and hit the guy in the face, but he felt a prickling sting in his neck. It made his body feel weak, and suddenly, he didn’t know what to do when a weakening feeling spread throughout his system. His knees began to shake. It wasn't long before he lost his strength to stand. Koutarou’s legs gave out from underneath him, and his body hit the floor, falling flat on his stomach. 

_“Bokuto!”_

His entire body was beginning to feel numb. It started where the injection was, slowly taking over the rest of his body. A pair of boots stepped in front of where his eyesight slanted down, but he didn’t see a face, and before he could stop it, his vision blurred slowly until it all went black.

* * *

“Bokuto! Bokuto, hey!?” 

“Hey, what’re ya yellin’ ‘bout? I heard ya down the hall.” Atsumu popped his head into Kiyoomi’s office, cocking his head a little. He heard Kiyoomi shouting from his office and made the decision to check it out for himself.

Kiyoomi had his chair backed up and pushed to the wall, and he was now on his feet. A hand was planted on the desk, the other hand held one of the speakers on the headset he wore, the other speaker was off his ear. He seemed to ignore Atsumu as he switched a tab on his computer away from a black screen and started typing something quickly. 

Atsumu walked in, narrowing his eyes at the screen to see his email pulled up.

“Call Ukai.”

“Ukai?” Atsumu raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

“Just dial his number, would you?" Kiyoomi hissed and changed the tab once more back to the black screen. "Don’t hit call. _Yet_.”

Atsumu sighed, but he picked up the phone on Kiyoomi’s desk anyway. “Alright, but I got no clue what yer freakin’ out fer.” He dialed the number for Keishin’s office and lazily held it out to Kiyoomi. The moment Kiyoomi snatched the phone from Atsumu, the black screen turned dark grey, then lighter grey until it was flipped to show a ceiling. A bathroom ceiling. Standing over the camera were two men holding arms that were on the sides of the view.

Then Atsumu’s heart dropped.

“Omi, what’s happenin’?” Atsumu said with a little more seriousness. He watched as Kiyoomi fixed his headset while clicking two keys at once on the keyboard.

“Hey, Hinata?” Kiyoomi spoke instead into the headset's microphone.

_“Sakusa! What’s up?”_ A cheery voice chimed on the other end.

“Get out of there.”

_“Come again?”_

“Bokuto was taken. Get out of there.” Atsumu’s stomach flipped this time. His eyes darted from the screen to Kiyoomi. He couldn’t just hear this and do nothing. Atsumu grabbed the phone from Kiyoomi and hit call. Kiyoomi raised an eyebrow at him when he did it, but Atsumu gave him a look, lifting his shoulders a little in a shrug as he raised the phone to his ear.

_“You’re serious?”_ There was a pause. _“Shouldn’t I save him?”_

“Too risky. Hinata, get out.”

  
  


_“Hello?”_ Atsumu heard Keishin’s voice, and he stepped a little further away from the desk, however far the phone cord would let him. 

“Boss, ‘m not sure exactly what’s happenin’ but from what I’ve gotten, Bokuto is kidnapped.”

_“What?”_

“They must’ve figured he was there to infiltrate?” Atsumu said though it was more like a question as he looked to Kiyoomi to confirm. The mysophobe was off the phone with Shouyou at that point, staring at Atsumu, though his eyes darted from him to the screen. He nodded at Atsumu to confirm. “Yah.” Atsumu’s gaze returned to the floor, and he chewed the inside of his lip. “What do ya want us to do?”

_“You have tracking, right?”_

Atsumu looked up at Kiyoomi. “Trackin’?” He asked.

“Yes, it’s searching right now.” When Atsumu looked at the screen, he could see a bunch of green text behind a black background. He would never understand it, but he would obviously take Kiyoomi’s word.

“Yeah, it’s trackin’,” he said into the phone.

“Lost it.”

“What?” Atsumu turned his head to Kiyoomi when he heard the mysophobe mumble under his breath. He walked over, staring at the screen. “Ya can get it back, can’tcha?”

“I don’t know.”

“Ya don’t know?”

“No, shut up.” Kiyoomi held out his hand. “Give me the phone.” Atsumu sighed and handed over the phone. “I lost where he was ― Hinata too, dammit.” Atsumu couldn’t hear Keishin anymore, and it frustrated him. He hated being out of the loop, and he definitely hated being out of the loop and _useless_. “Are you sure?” There was a pause, and Atsumu dragged his fingers in his leg. “Alright.” 

Kiyoomi hung up the phone and looked over at Atsumu.

“Well?” Atsumu finally asked.

“He doesn’t want us to do anything, not yet.” 

“What?”

Kiyoomi sighed and sat back down. “There’s nothing we can do.”

“Nothin’ we can do?” Atsumu stood on the other side of the desk. “Are ya serious?” He leaned forward, his jaw clenched slightly in anger. Atsumu wasn’t sure why he was getting so upset. People had been kidnapped before, and people had been kidnapped where Atsumu just had to wait before he was allowed to do anything. Maybe it was Kiyoomi’s calm attitude about everything and how it seemed that he just pushed everything away.

“Ukai is working on tracking them.”

“Ain’t that yer job?”

“I’m helping too, jackass.” Kiyoomi sighed. “Are you just gonna stand there with your dirty hands on my desk?”

Atsumu lifted his hands in defeat, stepping back from the desk a little. “Sorry," he muttered. Kiyoomi rolled his eyes and looked back at his computer. He started typing, clicking, hitting keys at the same time. Atsumu didn’t know what it meant, he just knew he was doing _something_. “I’m gonna work on gettin’ a team ready then.”

* * *

“You’re shitting me.” Issei sat up on the couch, setting his cup of fresh coffee on the table for safety. Atsumu had gathered everyone in the lounge room, minus Kiyoomi who was working on finding the other two assassins, to tell them what had happened and what had gone wrong. 

Takahiro had the back of his neck on the armrest, looking up at Atsumu from a weird angle. He had a magazine in his hands that was tilted downward so his attention was to the bleached-haired assassin.

Keiji was at the table in the room, hand tightly gripping onto the phone in his hand. His finger turned the screen off, and his grip seemed like he was about to shatter the phone in half. 

Tobio leaned against the wall behind Keiji, and he put a hand on his shoulder. The stealth pro jumped a little and looked back at him. Keiji closed his eyes for a few seconds, spotting a look of pity in Tobio’s eyes. When had he learned to give pity? He pulled his eyes away from the gunman and looked back to his phone, loosening his grip on it and setting it on the table.

Hajime, who was standing near the fridge with Tooru, had flinched a little upon hearing it. Tooru gave a sad smile to him, a look of sympathy. It wasn’t that he didn’t care for Koutarou and Shouyou, it was that he hadn’t known them for as long as Hajime knew them. He put a hand on Hajime’s shoulder, who stiffened at the touch slightly. The sniper looked over at him, sighed quietly, relaxed, and looked back over at Atsumu.

Tetsurou was frozen while giving a vacant stare to the ground. His eyes were pretty wide from how they usually were, his hands were locked tight together, knuckles growing white.

Morisuke stood by the same wall Tetsurou did, the one where the vending machines were. He moved slightly closer to him, though he didn’t touch him. 

  
  


“So what are we doing to help?” Takahiro spoke up.

“Omi’s helpin’ Ukai track,” Atsumu replied, and he shifted on one foot, stuffing his hands in the back pocket of his jeans. “There’s nothin’ we can do but get together a team ‘n wait till it’s our turn to jump in.”

“What team are you thinking?” Hajime asked. 

“Obviously, Akaashi,” Atsumu said while nodding his head toward Keiji. His head lifted up, and he gave a slight nod. “Matsukawa.” Issei’s eyes moved toward Atsumu. “Those are the two who I know we’ll definitely need, otherwise, we needa know what we’re dealin’ with first.”

“So what we can do isn’t even that much?” Takahiro mumbled.

Atsumu sighed. “Yah.”

“Great.” Takahiro sighed. 

“That’s it, I guess,” Atsumu said. “Be ready for anythin’ anytime.”

* * *

“Atsumu.” Takahiro stuck his head in the doorway of Atsumu’s office, knocking on the door as he stepped in which just defeated the whole purpose of knocking. Atsumu looked up from his desk, wide eyes with a little shock though he looked tired. It made Takahiro chuckle. “You’ve got bags under your eyes,” he said slyly.

“Really?” Atsumu leaned back in his chair. “Yer sayin’ that to me? When’s the last time ya slept?”

“Irrelevant,” Takahiro said, and he walked in, boosting himself up on the desk directly in front of the other. He kicked his feet up on the chair between the space of Atsumu’s legs, pushing him back a little on the wheels. Atsumu glared at him a little. “I want to help.”

“Help?”

“Yeah, idiot. I want to help.”

“Do ya know how to?”

“Shut up. Send me files or whatever. I can work later than you anyhow.” Takahiro hopped off the desk and headed to the door. 

“Hanamaki, ya know, ya gonna need energy fer the rescue mission if ya wanna go on it.”

Takahiro stopped at the door, chewing on his bottom lip. He sighed and looked behind him. “You can get me _after_ we save Bokuto and Hinata. I have enough energy to go.”

“Promise?” 

Takahiro cringed. It was obvious he didn’t want to make the promise, that he just wanted to say cross his fingers behind his back so he would be able to say, _‘Nah, it wasn’t a real promise’_ when the time came to it for him to be knocked unconscious by Atsumu, Tooru, Morisuke, and Keiji. He just really wanted people to stop bothering him about _it._

He still nodded, because he knew that finding Koutarou and Shouyou was important.

* * *

“Hanamaki, hey, Makki.” Takahiro snapped his head up from the desk, something dropping from the side of his face which landed on the desk. His cheek really hurt. As he looked up, his eyes met with Issei who stood next to him at his desk. Issei’s eyes suddenly wandered a little from his eyes and looked down. He let out a laugh.

“W-what?” Takahiro’s hand reached up and ran his fingers through his hair a little, pushing the faded pink bangs back.

“You slept on a pen so now you’ve got this―“ Issei reached over and poked the spot exactly where Takahiro’s cheek was in pain, “red mark of a pen on your face.” The torturer’s hand reached up and dragged his fingers down it.

“I wasn’t sleeping.” Takahiro lifted his hand to his eyes, rubbing them with a yawn. “I was just daydreaming.”

“Daydreaming? It’s two in the morning.” Takahiro looked over at the clock on his computer screen. He sighed and reached over to his computer, saving the progress that he made. 

“I swear I was getting close.” He emailed it to Atsumu. 

“Come on. It’s time you should head home and get into an _actual_ bed.” Takahiro looked at Issei. He stared at him for a few seconds. Takahiro reached up, tugging on his ear as he bit his lip to look away.

“Yeah, a bed,” he mumbled sadly before locking his computer. He stood from the desk and walked to where Issei was waiting by the door. Once Takahiro stepped into the hallway, he heard the lock click and the flick of the light switch. 

Issei’s hand flattened itself on Takahiro’s back and softly pushed him forward. “Let’s go, sleeping beauty.”

  
  


Takahiro was easy to get into the car with Issei, listening to just about anything he said. He just let his head hit the back of the seat, and he closed his eyes, clenching them shut tightly while gritting his teeth.

_‘Don’t sleep. Don’t sleep.’_ His eyes opened when Issei slammed his door while getting in the front seat. 

“You gonna try and stay awake at all?”

“Of course,” Takahiro muttered. He crossed his arms. “I’m not a coward.” Takahiro turned in his seat a little, curling up in a ball as the car started to peel out of the parking lot. His eyes were still cracked open, staring at the glowing lights of the car’s control panel. Issei just chuckled a little. 

Takahiro’s eyes drifted a little, moving to look at Issei’s hand that lazily laid on the middle counsel, the other one was on the wheel with its elbow leaned on the door. He pulled his feet up on the seat with him and leaned over the counsel a little. His hand reached over and grabbed onto Issei’s, fingers moving to thread with his. “Thank you, Matsukawa,” he quietly mumbled very tiredly under his breath.

“Of course.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Twitter @mattsuhana


	6. Splitting up isn't the best option but let's do it anyway

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW // Torture (not the act just a description of the aftermath)

**MAR. 6**

As everyone was gathered in the meeting room, Keishin sighed. His eyes looked over at all of his subordinates. Keiji sat next to Tetsurou who had Morisuke next to him. Kiyoomi, Hajime, Tobio, and Tooru were standing off by the wall. Takahiro and Issei sat at the table.

Atsumu stood on the table while staring at the light. 

“Atsumu, what are you doing?” Takahiro asked while raising an eyebrow. His face just read amusement from Atsumu acting like this. Sometimes he did, and Takahiro was always on Team Instigator. 

“I swear to fuck this shit flickered.”

“The lights aren’t flickering, Atsumu. Get down,” Keishin ordered. Atsumu sighed and jumped down from the table.

“Fine, but don’t blame me when the room gets dark ‘n Kuroo runs into the wall.”

“Hey!”

“Shut up,” Hajime interrupted.

Keishin sighed. “This is a bit different from our normal rescue jobs since it’s some of _our_ people who were kidnapped.” He sighed, and his eyes skimmed over everyone in the room. “That doesn’t mean we freak out while doing it because we know some of them. We will get Bokuto and Hinata back.” 

  
  


Keiji looked down at the ground, furrowing his eyebrows in thought. _‘What if we can’t?’_ He felt a hand on his shoulder, and Keiji looked over to his left. Takahiro gave him a soft smile, and Keiji nodded, looking back to Keishin to get ready to be told the job. _‘He’s gonna be fine.’_

  
  


“Since I want at least _two_ snipers, Iwaizumi and Kageyama will be set up in trees that surround the building ― we’ll be in the middle of the woods in this large, mansion-like house.” Keishin pulled a small remote from his pocket. The projector clicked on, and on the wall in front of them there was a picture of the house Keishin had described (very poorly). “That’s where Sakusa and I, with the help of the other branch plus Atsumu and Hanamaki’s late-night work, had figured out where they were.

“After that, we’ll have the ones of us that are best at stealth go through the back. That’s Akaashi and Atsumu.” Keishin looked at Keiji, and Keiji nodded. “I’m throwing in Hanamaki,” he added while looking at Takahiro. Takahiro sat up straight in his seat upon hearing his name. “Someone might be tortured, and I want you to go to be able to tell right then and there if any of them are in medical danger. Also, a backup fighter in case they need it.” 

“That a good idea, boss?” Atsumu questioned under his breath, but Keishin, and everyone else in the room, ignored it. It seemed they weren’t too focused on Takahiro’s _issue_ right now, their full attention was turned to saving their co-workers and their allies instead.

“You said we know _‘some of them’_ ,” Takahiro spoke up instead, steering the conversation back to the main topic at hand. “Are these the same people who kidnapped the people that Hinata and Bokuto were trying to save or whatnot?” He asked. 

Keishin nodded. “Yes. In the middle of Bokuto and Hinata’s mission, they were found out and kidnapped, so you have to get back our men and our ally organization's men.” He looked down at his phone and clicked around until some photos popped up on the screen. “The names are Sawamura Daichi and Sugawara Koushi.”

“I’ve heard of them before,” Tooru muttered, and he gathered everyone’s attention from it. “Sawamura is known to be pretty smart, really good at hand to hand combat.” He looked over at Issei. “Like Mattsun, he’s really good at being on the defensive side of things.”

“And Sugawara?” Takahiro questioned.

“He―” Tooru bit his lip, raised an eyebrow. “I’ve heard a lot about him. He’s like Bokuto and Makki put together.”

Takahiro raised an eyebrow. “Meaning what?” 

“Bokuto likes to knock people out rather than kill them, go the less bloody way as to not make a mess or do unnecessary killing. Makki, you’re a bit ruthless, and if you’re set off, you go _off_.” Takahiro slowly nodded. “Sugawara is quick, really good at fighting, and he really isn’t afraid to hurt someone or get his hands dirty.”

“Speaking of Bokuto,” Keishin began with a sigh, “he’s my other main fighter beside Matsukawa, and I’m not sending Matsukawa in alone no matter how much I don’t doubt his skills. I’m thinking of throwing in two in replacement of Bokuto.”

“Who ya thinkin’?” Atsumu asked, elbow on the table, face in the palm of his hand as he leaned forward in his chair.

“Oikawa and Kuroo.”

“Oikawa?” Morisuke asked. He tilted his chair on the back two lays, feet kicked up on the table like a kid in detention. “You’re kidding, right?”

“Shut up,” Tooru defended, but he didn’t even seem too confident about it. He looked to Keishin. “Boss, I haven’t fought hand-to-hand seriously in months.”

“You used to fight?” Tetsurou laughed.

Tooru nodded. “Before I moved to safer jobs like analysis or joining in to help Akaashi by distracting people, I worked on the field.”

“Why’d you stop?” Tetsurou asked.

“He broke his knee,” Atsumu muttered.

“Don’t say it like that!” Tooru whined.

“It’s what happened.”

“Yeah but!― ” Tooru sighed. “It was more serious than that.”

“Are you saying you can’t do it?” Keishin asked.

Tooru stared at the floor in front of him for a second. His arms were crossed, his finger tapping quickly on his elbow. Slowly, he shook his head.

“Alright then.” Keishin looked straight to another person. “I was afraid of that. Sakusa.” He looked at him, and Kiyoomi moved his eyes up. “Can you?”

“Him?” Atsumu scoffed. “Omi? I’ve only ever seen the guy yell into a microphone. Ya said his job was communications, not fightin’.”

“He’s done it before.”

Atsumu turned fully in his chair to face Kiyoomi. “Ya what now?”

“I’ve―” Kiyoomi sighed. “I used to do what Matsukawa did.”

“Since when?”

“Two years ago.”

“Yer serious?” Atsumu looked over at Issei. “He serious?” 

Issei slowly nodded. “We worked together, actually.”

“What happened?” Atsumu asked, suddenly intrigued.

“Nothing. Shut up,” Kiyoomi snapped. He looked at Keishin. “I can do it,” he said with a shrug.

“Perfect,” Keishin said.

  
  


Atsumu leaned back on Takahiro a little. “Hey, both of ya.” Keiji sighed and leaned forward too, basically leaning on Takahiro’s back to be able to hear Atsumu. “That was a lil’ weird, no?”

“What was?” Takahiro asked.

“How protective Omi was ‘bout how he used to fight hand-to-hand.”

Keiji raised an eyebrow. “You’re that interested in him?”

“He’s an interestin’ guy, ‘Kaashi,” Atsumu mumbled. “What can I say?”

“Just say you’re horny and leave,” Takahiro said.

“Shut yer trap. ‘M genuinely curious.” Atsumu rolled his eyes. “There’s somethin’ ‘bout it.” Takahiro sighed and pushed Atsumu off him and back into his own seat.

  
  


“You three fighters are going in straight through the main entrance. Your job is really a decoy. Beat up the main guards, make them call for backup so that Akaashi, Atsumu, and Hanamaki can slip in,” Keishin explained. “Yaku, you’re a last resort.”

“Naturally,” he mumbled. “Because if all else fails, run in there with bombs.”

Keishin nodded. “Basically. Now, go get ready.”

* * *

In order to be stealthy in the dark, all of them dressed in black.

Tobio and Hajime both had straps to them which had a sniper gun on the back. They had a few magazines hanging on them as well in case they ran out of ammunition.

Keiji, Atsumu, and Takahiro simply had a belt with weapons of their choice strapped to them. Atsumu and Takahiro chose not to have guns, meanwhile, Keiji had a gun with a silencer ready. 

Kiyoomi, Issei, and Tetsurou had the most weapons on them. With the exception of Tetsurou, they had guns with a magazine clip. All three of them had a few knives, hidden in the boots, latched onto their belts ― they were prepared for anything. 

Keishin had added on before they left that he didn’t know how many they were exactly supposed to be fighting, but if there were a lot then Hajime and Tobio were to jump down from their positions and join in for backup.

They took two separate cars. Takahiro, Keiji, Tobio, and Atsumu rode in one car, and Issei, Hajime, Kiyoomi, and Tetsurou were in the other with all the weapons. 

It was the first job where they’d all be working together, new paired with the old though not directly, but it still made each of them wonder just how well they’d work together.

* * *

Slipping in was easy. For the team that was there to fight, they didn’t have to go far. They simply walked through the front doors after Hajime and Tobio took out the guards by the entrance. Their job was mainly to be a distraction for the stealth team in order for them to slip through the back

  
  


_“You guys ready?”_ Issei asked through the earpiece. Takahiro held two fingers on the small device in his ear.

“Ready when you are, babe.” A _yawn_ from Takahiro. Keiji glared at him to which he received a shrug, a weak smile, and a beat look from Takahiro. The bags under the torturer's eyes were nothing to be proud of, and Keiji could swear his skin was pale.

Takahiro heard Issei chuckle. _“Alright, we’re going in,”_ Issei said. _“Head in whenever.”_

Takahiro nodded to Keiji to signal him to go. He picked up the bolt cutters they carried with them from the ground and used them to break the lock on the basement door.

The people who had Koutarou and Shouyou held events at this manor before. They were just stupid enough to invite their enemies. A cartographer had taken the chance in the building to learn and study the layout. From the map-maker, they had been given a map which was how they found the basement door and learned that they were, in fact, being held in cells in the basement.

  
  


Quietly, the stealth team of three headed down the stone steps which seemed to be growing moss. 

“How creepy,” Atsumu muttered quietly. There were rows and rows of cages, sometimes people were in them, though none of them made an effort to ask for help. Instead, they cowered in the corner. 

They reached a part where there was another row of cages to the left, but the hallway still stretched in front of them. Two ways to go, they’d have to part ways.

“Atsumu and I go left, you keep going,” Takahiro said to Keiji, and the assassin nodded. They split up.

* * *

Keiji kept moving, eyes scanning inside each cage for the familiar black and white or orange hair. There were cobwebs everywhere, and Keiji chucked to himself thinking, _‘Man, this time Hanamaki and I_ both _got the job with cobwebs and creepy basements.’_

He froze upon hearing footsteps and deep voices, and no, it wasn’t the wonderful deep voice of one Hanamaki Takahiro. Takahiro’s deep voice was smooth. This voice was rough. 

Keiji quickly looked around for something. He looked up, noticing a small vent in the ceiling. Putting away his knife and locking it in place on his belt, Keiji grabbed ahold of the out of place bricks in the wall and climbed them, reaching for the edge of the vent to hold onto. His fingertips grazed it once before he went to reach again, and finally, he got a hold of the ledge, pulling himself up weakly before being able to grab it with his other hand.

Keiji slipped into the vent just in time, calming his breathing and lowering it to almost nothing as he watched down through the metal gate. He watched as four men walked through the halls of the cells, banging the barrels of their guns to taunt the people inside as they walked past. They laughed when they flinched, and Keiji cringed. 

_‘Who are these people?’_

He ignored it. Keiji had a mission, and that was saving his friends in addition to the two others. He kept moving through the vents.

* * *

Takahiro and Atsumu looked in each of the cages. Inside, sometimes, there was someone in there either crouched in the corner or with their back to them while facing the wall as they laid on one of the small beds they were given. They knew it wasn’t who they were looking for, and they, painfully, kept going. 

Finally, they came across the cell with the familiar hair on the other side. He was sitting down curled up in a ball on the other side of the cell, his forehead pressed resting against his knees.

“Hinata,” Atsumu called out. Takahiro quickly looked over hearing Atsumu call a familiar name, and the head of orange hair looked up as well. Atsumu expected a smile or something to come on his face, but it didn’t. Actually, he looked more scared. His eyes widened.

“‘Tsumu, watch out!”

And then Atsumu felt it. His body being knocked to the ground, a throbbing pain on the left side of his head. He went to call for help, and his hand reached up to touch his earpiece to turn off mute, but nothing was there when he did. Atsumu’s dotted vision looked around, and he saw it. The small black earpiece on the ground a few feet in front of him. He went to reach out for it, but a boot stepped on his wrist.

“Gah!” Atsumu gritted his teeth in pain. He tried to pull back his wrist, but the quick tug popped it out of place. Atsumu felt himself get pulled up by the hair, and his hands reached to his head to try and weaken their hold. “Shit!” He was pulled to his feet, and when he was brought up to eye level, a man stood in front of him with another man still holding his hair.

“You think you just cause a quick distraction and slip out?”  
  


“Was hopin’” Atsumu responded. He felt the barrel of a gun press against the side of his head. 

Atsumu looked around. _‘Where the fuck did Hanamaki go?’_

* * *

“Oh, dear Miya Atsumu,” Takahiro muttered under his breath. “Forgive me,” he said with a yawn cutting through. Takahiro rubbed the palm of his hand into his eye. 

_‘Shit. Fucking shit. If I pass out here, I will never forgive myself.’_

Takahiro had slipped away from the fight, and it wasn’t like he _wanted_ to leave Atsumu alone in that predicament but what was he supposed to do? Takahiro was pretty confident in his ability to fight. Actually, he was highly confident ― more than someone who usually doesn’t get out in the field much due to sleep deprivation should be. Though he was exhausted, and Takahiro was pretty sure if he tried to take on three other guys at the moment, he would collapse before he could raise a weapon.

Takahiro lifted his hand to his ear and clicked the earpiece on. “Matsukawa?”

_“Yeah?”_ Almost an instant reply. God, Takahiro would marry this man.

“Help,” was all Takahiro said.

_“Where are you?”_

“Downstairs.” Takahiro looked around him. He had thought Keiji went down this way but he was nowhere to be seen. They had gotten separated so quickly. “Basement. Atsumu has three guys on him. I slipped away. Akaashi is―” Takahiro took a deep breath, and he found a door. “I don’t know where Akaashi is.” He opened it to a set of stairs, and before he slipped in to go up, he checked behind him again.

_“But you’re fine?”_

“No one is hurt if that’s what you’re asking.” 

Issei sighed in relief. _“‘Kay good.”_

“You guys?” Takahiro moved quickly and quietly up the stairs. As he moved, he reached into his pocket, pulling out his small weapon of choice. It wasn’t really like a weapon, more like his favorite torture tool. A switchblade knife. He pushed the blade out just in case.

_“Fine. Kuroo got his shit kicked though.”_

_“Shut up. Fuck you.”_

Issei laughed. _“Whatever.”_

“Hold on.” Takahiro reached the top of the stairs to another door. He slowly turned the handle, peeking the door open. Through the crack, he saw Issei, Tetsurou, and Kiyoomi all standing in a big room which is what seemed to be the main room. Around them were bodies, some probably dead, some probably knocked out. Takahiro couldn’t tell the difference. “If you shoot me, I’ll kill you,” Takahiro said.

_“Huh?”_

Takahiro clicked off the earpiece before slowly pushing open the door. As expected, Issei and Kiyoomi pointed their guns at him. He held his hands up and gave a cheeky smile. 

Issei sighed, and they both dropped their guns. “You could’ve said, _‘I’m coming through the door’_ or something,” he groaned, rolling his eyes. Takahiro stepped through the door and slowly closed it behind him. 

“Yeah, but where’s the fun in that?” Takahiro asked with a smirk. He walked closer, now able to get a better look at all the bodies. The blood on Tetsurou’s side of the room was far more messier than Kiyoomi and Issei’s. “Anyway, can we hurry up and figure out a plan to rescue the Sawamura and Sugawara guys _and_ Hinata and Bokuto?” Takahiro sighed. “And I guess Akaashi and Atsumu now.”

“Yes, we will,” Kiyoomi said. He peeled off gloves from his hands and dropped them to the floor, reaching into his back pocket to pull out a second pair. “But they’re sending more backup _here_ , so we might need to split up.”

“You think that’s our best choice?” Tetsurou asked, and Kiyoomi nodded. “Then I guess it’s the best choice.” He hopped down from the table he sat on. “What pairs are you thinking?”

“You and I stay here, Hanamaki and Matsukawa go find and help Atsumu, Akaashi, and the others.” 

Tetsurou pulled out his knife, running his thumb along the edge of it. “Alright.”

“You seem pretty easy to follow what he says, Kuroo,” Takahiro said while being pushed toward the door he came from by Issei.

“If you worked with him for as long as I have, you would too.”

“Good luck,” Issei called out while opening the door.

“You too.”

* * *

If Keiji knew that his job would be filled with crawling through metal vents, he probably would’ve rethought his life choices. Though it was pretty much too late now, so here Keiji was, crawling on his hands and knees through a cold, cobweb-filled vent.

_‘Hanamaki is gonna get a laugh out when he hears about this.’_ Keiji sighed, but it turned into relief at the sight of some light further ahead. He crawled further, coming up to another grated door. Peeking through it, Keiji could see two guards standing at a door with guns. 

Keiji felt around on his belt. He had only brought one gun so that ruled out his plan of jumping down and shooting them both at the same time before they could shoot him. Instead, he’d have to jump and shoot twice quickly. 

He pulled out the silencer, attaching it to the gun before carefully removing the gated door without a sound. Keiji aimed the gun before getting ready to jump, shooting as he pushed himself off the edge and quickly aimed for the next guy. It was quick and quiet as they fell to the floor, and Keiji stood back to his feet and checked around any corners nearby to see if there had been any who heard what happened. 

With a sigh of relief, Keiji thankfully saw no one nearby. He stepped up to the door they were guarding, and Keiji kicked one of the guard’s hands out of the way of the door before he kneeled down beside him. Keiji fished around in the man’s pockets, fiddling around for a jingle of keys. Once he heard it, he pulled them out. A ring of silver keys. 

Keiji opened the door of the guarded room and almost dropped his gun at the sight inside. There, basically bolted to a chair, was Koutarou, beaten and bloodied. His shoes were off and the sides of his feet were covered in burn marks. On the floor was water, and directly under the chair was a drain. That’s when Keiji noticed the showerhead above him.

_‘A cold shower torture and burned feet?’_ Keiji slowly walked into the room, looking around to make sure it was safe to just walk straight into. It was completely bare beside the table filled with bloodied torture tools by the wall on the far right. _‘I have to ask Hanamaki about that.’_ Keiji walked up to the chair, slipping his gun on his belt before his hands quickly started to remove the chains that tied his arms down to the chair. His wrists were bright red, bleeding in some places from the rusted-looking chain. 

“Bokuto?” Keiji asked softly. “Bokuto, please.” He got both Koutarou’s hands undone, moving to unlock the chains around his ankles. They were probably there to stop him from kicking around while his feet were being scarred to literal hell. 

Keiji reached up and cupped his cheeks, lifting Koutarou’s head. The cold water that dripped from his hair drenched Keiji’s hands. He probably had two black eyes. There was a split lip, a busted cheek, a scar would probably be drawn straight down the side of his forehead to near the corner of his eyes. Slowly, Koutarou's eyes fluttered open, but they looked like they wanted to just close again.

“Akaashi?”

“Bokuto? Hey, can you hear me?”

“Well, they didn’t burn my ears so yeah.”

Keiji smiled weakly. “Come on, get up.” He wrapped his arm on his shoulder and pulled him from the chair, doing most of the work to pull Koutarou out of the room. Koutarou mainly leaned on him as Keiji used his other arm that wasn’t directly holding him up to click his earpiece off of mute. “Hey, guys.”

_“Akaashi? Where the fuck have you been?”_ Takahiro asked right away.

“I found Bokuto.”

_“Well, I lost Atsumu.”_

“You what now?” Keiji tried to walk and talk, dragging Koutarou down the hallway. There was a door at the far end, so Keiji made his way in that direction. 

_“Well, we kind of got jumped but I slipped away.”_

“Oh, great.”

_“Listen, I couldn’t find you, asshole.”_ Keiji heard Takahiro yawn. They were getting more and more frequent.

“I went into the vents because I heard someone coming.”

_“Such a powermove of you.”_

“Where are you, Hanamaki?” Keiji opened the door, and this was the first time he’d be glad to see rows of cages. 

_“We’re in the hallways near where I ditched Atsumu.”_

“Who is _‘we’_?”

_“I stole Matsukawa.”_

Keiji sighed. “Okay, you guys get Hinata and Atsumu then and get out. I’ve got Bokuto.”

_“You did?”_

“Yeah, he’s not good.” Keiji shuddered and kept moving. “What about the other two guys?”

_“I think they’re in the cages next to where Atsumu and I had found Hinata but I only got a quick glance. We’re heading back now.”_

“Let me know when you figure out.”

_“You got it. Good luck, ‘Kaashi.”_

“Good luck.”

* * *

“How’s it feel?” Tetsurou asked Kiyoomi once Issei and Takahiro left down the stairs. Kiyoomi raised an eyebrow while slipping on the new pair of gloves, fixing the placement of them, making sure the sleeves of his tight, black, long sleeve went over the bottoms of the gloves. “Getting out in the field again,” he clarified.

“Oh,” Kiyoomi mumbled. “Weird but fine, I guess.”

“So are you thinking of coming back?” Tetsurou asked with a grin. He had remembered all the times he worked with Kiyoomi. It wasn’t often the two had the chance to work together since Kiyoomi wasn’t a fan of the messes Tetsurou was capable of, though when they did fight together, there was no doubt that the two were an amazing duo. 

“Communications is fine with me.” 

“But it’s boring.”

“It’s clean.”

“That’s not why you’re not doing it.” Tetsurou groaned. “Come on. Sakusa, it wasn’t even your fault with what had happened.”

“Did I ask you?” Kiyoomi glared at Tetsurou, his stare stabbing at Tetsurou’s eyes like sharp knives, knives that even Tetsurou would be scared to go near, and that was saying something. Tetsurou bit back his tongue and looked off to the side. He’d never be able to convince Kiyoomi what had happened wasn’t his fault, that he couldn’t change what happened no matter what he did, that no one would’ve been capable.

“Sorry, man. I know it’s a sensitive topic. It’s just―” Tetsurou took a deep breath, letting out a heavy, loud sigh. He leaned against the small table in the room, reaching his foot out to tap his toe into the side of some guy he ended up killing. “I miss you out in the field, dude. You’re really an assassin with multiple weapons, you know? You can do so much shit.” His voice got quieter as he spoke. “I kind of envy you.”

Kiyoomi scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Whatever.”

“Beside from the mysophobia. I don’t want that.”

“Kuroo.”

“Yes?”

“Shut up.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Twitter @mattsuhana


	7. Splitting up isn't the best option but let's do it anyway II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The rescue mission continues

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Character insert Sawamura Daichi and Sugawara Koushi for literally just this chapter
> 
> TW // Minor killings (again)

**MAR. 6**

Takahiro brought Issei through the hallway he had come from. He was walking slower, his eyes were getting heavier. Takahiro was exhausted, tired, and he didn’t know how much longer he would survive. He should’ve just let Atsumu and Keiji knock him out, but he was stubborn and wanted to help out on the rescue mission.

Now it was his ass that was about to need rescuing. The irony of it all.

  
  


“Hey, Hanamaki?” Issei’s voice was quiet, and he softly put a hand on Takahiro’s back. It made the torturer flinch, his back straightening out as his eyes shot open before closing halfway again. “Are you alright?” Takahiro leaned into the touch a little, something to get him to stay up. How long had it been since he last slept? 

The last time he slept was a day before rescuing Issei, February twenty-fifth. ‘ _One day without sleep.’_ The new people joined the day after, February twenty-sixth. ‘ _Two days without sleep_ .’ The party was three days after that, March second. ‘ _Equals up to five days without sleep.’_ Koutarou and Shouyou got the job _and_ were kidnapped following two days, March fifth. ‘ _Seven days without sleep_ .’ The rescue was planned that day and night and brought up to be executed that morning, today was March sixth. _‘Eight days without sleep.’_

The world record was eleven, his personal record was ten.

The last few days were always the worst to push through _and_ he had to carry out a job while doing it.

Takahiro was fucked.

Each step he took, he felt like it took out a chunk of his energy that he had left. He knew that slipping away raised his anxiety in the fear of getting caught, and that took a lot out of him. There was a reason Takahiro was pulled from working in the field full time. He never had enough energy for anything, he had passed out a few times, he wasn’t at his best. Everything about it was a hazard.

Takahiro was a hazard to Issei right now, and he knew he was. The thought was clawing at him in the back of his mind that something could happen to Issei and it would be all his fault.

  
  


Ahead of him, Takahiro watched someone cross the hallway, and he stopped, grabbing a hold of Issei’s sleeve and pulling him back. Issei didn’t move though. He stared at Takahiro with a raised eyebrow.

“Hanamaki, what the hell?” Issei touched Takahiro’s face, his hand feeling his forehead. The back of his hand was so warm compared to the coldness of Takahiro’s face. “Are you okay?”

_‘Hallucinating. I’m hallucinating.’_

“Matsukawa, if we get in a fight, I can’t,” Takahiro said dryly.

“What do you mean?” 

Takahiro grabbed Issei’s hand and pulled it away from his face. “Stop that. I’m not a child running a fever.” He sighed, his eyes closing shut for a few seconds before he forced them open. “If we get in a fight, you’re going to have to take it by yourself.”

“Okay.” Issei nodded. “Yeah, I got it.” He placed his hand on Takahiro’s back again and pushed him forward to keep walking. “Come on. We got a job to do.”

* * *

“A rescue mission? Really? Just you?” Atsumu felt his hair almost get pulled out of his skull, and he grabbed onto the guy’s wrist who was responsible. He had three guys around him, Takahiro was gone, Shouyou was stuck in the cell, and Keiji had separated from them long before. 

“Are ya jealous? Lil Hinata gettin’ a nice recuse from lil’ ol’ me.” Atsumu gave a cocky smirk but it was all fake. He really didn’t feel like getting the shit kicked out of him today. 

The guy didn’t seem to like his sarcastic response, and he raised Atsumu a little higher, his feet rising off the ground. Atsumu gritted his teeth together, getting out some curse words before the guy had tossed him against the wall. His back hit the bricks, and he fell down to the floor. Atsumu let his head hang low, his hair covering his face as best as it could as he scanned his enemies’ feet.

Thankfully, through all his years of being an assassin, Atsumu knew what a knife tucked and hidden in a boot looked like. The guy who was in front of him; the guy who had lifted him by his hair; the guy that Atsumu was pretty sure he hated just because he did _that_ , had that very familiar outline in his boots over the bottom of his jeans. 

Atsumu stuck his tongue out, waiting for the guy to get closer -- closer to the point where he could grab it. He slowly did, taking one step toward Atsumu. The thief took that as his chance, darting forward and grabbing the knife before rolling off to the side. He stayed low as he switched out the blade, noticing the semi-old pocket knife, and raised it in defense. 

“What the fuck?” Atsumu learned his lesson the last times this had happened to him, so he pushed off his foot and darted toward him, letting the knife sink into his gut. The guy choked before he started hacking coughs. Atsumu pulled out the knife, stepping back away from the other two as he let the body hit the floor.

The other guy was quick to pull out a gun from his own belt, not hesitating to shoot Atsumu in the arm. It wasn’t that Atsumu hadn’t been shot before, they all have, but he would never get used to that feeling. There was a sharp inhale through his lips, and he quickly covered a hand over the new wound, trying to stop the bleeding as best he could. His knees felt weaker even though he was shot in the arm. They wobbled for a bit before Atsumu felt himself hit the floor, his knees taking a good slam to the concrete. 

As best as he could, Atsumu tried to land himself close to the guy he killed. If they had a gun, Atsumu would have this fight. He scanned over the body, looking near the chest, boots, hips.

Atsumu could see the silver sticking out on his waist.

As the other guys had begun to step close to grab him, Atsumu snagged the gun, raised it, and shot. He swore the other guy almost got his gun out in time, but he dropped to the floor before Atsumu could get shot again.

  
  


Atsumu sighed, letting his back go limp, his body leaning over his lap while he clutched onto his bleeding arm. He groaned, hating the stinging, pinching feeling that was getting shot. At least he didn’t get shot somewhere completely fatal.

“Atsumu?”

Atsumu looked over, and he sighed. “Hinata.” He slowly got to his feet, reaching down again just to fumble around in the pocket of the guy he took the gun and knife off of. Hearing a jingle in the pocket, Atsumu found the keys and pulled them out with a satisfied grin. He walked over to the cell, unlocking it with the twist of the key.

“Atsumu, are you alright?” Shouyou went to Atsumu as quickly as he could, hovering his hands over where Atsumu had his own holding over the bullet wound. “You need a doctor. We need to get you back.”

“I needa doctor? Hinata, ya covered in cuts.”

“I’m fine. You’re not.”

“I think we can both agree we’re not fine.”

Shouyou shrugged. “Touché. Come on. Let’s get out of here.”

“Wait,” Atsumu stopped him. He looked in the other cages next to Shouyou’s. There were people in there. Based on the files of the people they had to save, they fit the profile. One guy with silver hair, the other with plain, dark brown hair. “Sawamura Daichi and Sugawara Koushi?” 

The silver one’s head popped up, though the other man didn’t make an effort to move his.

“Yeah,” the silver one said, low, scratchy voice. “Who are you?” Atsumu looked over at Shouyou and smiled before walking over to the cages. 

“We’re actually here to rescue ya.” Atsumu unlocked the cage, swinging open the door and stepping back. “We’re with the Fukurodani agency.”

The silver-haired one stood slowly, tapping a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Come on,” he muttered under his breath.

“How do you know we can trust them?”

“They just killed three guys. Get your ass up, Daichi.” The silver-haired one waited for his friend to start getting up before he started moving out of the cell himself. He grinned, walking up to Atsumu and slapping a hand on his shoulder. “Nice to meet you, also you have a cool ass fucking accent.” He held out a hand. “Sugawara Koushi.” Koushi stared at his hand for a second and then lowered it. “Nevermind, you probably shouldn’t move your arm too much. Mind if I take a look at it?” Atsumu looked between Koushi and the guy who still stood back in the cell, watching the two of them from a distance as he brushed off his dirty, tattered clothes. He figured he could trust them. The twin was saving them after all. 

The thief shrugged. “Sure.”

Koushi didn’t waste a moment, leaning down to one of the dead bodies on the ground and ripping off the fabric of his shirt. He moved back to Atsumu, slowly removing his hand that covered his wound and replaced it with the torn cloth. It was all he could do in the situation. He gave it a few layers and tied off strands with a tight double-knot. “There. That ought to do it for now," he said. Koushi used the rest of the shirt he didn’t rip up to wipe the blood off his hands. “Daichi, come on. These losers are our rescue.”

Said Daichi stepped from the cell and walked up to them. He looked between them all before sighing and holding out a hand. “Sawamura Daichi, head of the Karasuno branch’s main team.”

* * *

“Atsumu? Hey, Atsumu?” Tooru said into the microphone of his headset. “Atsumu, are you there?” He wasn’t getting a response. Instead, he received nothing but static. Tooru clicked a keybind on the keyboard, switching who he was communicating with. “Akaashi?”

_“Oikawa?”_

“Do you have any information on Atsumu? Why isn’t he answering?”

_“Uh, Hanamaki said he lost him.”_

“Lost him? Akaashi, where are you?”

_“I have Bokuto. I’m down the hallway with the exit, almost out. He’s hurt badly. We didn’t use the snipers. Can you get one down to help me?”_

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll send Iwa to you.”

_“Thanks.”_

  
  


Tooru switched transmissions.

“Iwa?”

_“Oikawa.”_

“Can you meet Akaashi where they headed in?”

_“Yeah.”_ Tooru could hear Hajime begin to pack away his sniper. There were clinking noises, switches being clicked ― Tooru had no idea how snipers worked. _“Yeah, what happened?”_

“He found Bokuto, needs help.”

_“Got it.”_

  
  


He switched the transmission _again_. “Hanamaki?”

_“What?”_ Takahiro sounded tired, more tired than he had yesterday which made sense. The torturer definitely hadn’t gotten a wink of sleep. 

“What happened with Atsumu?”

_“Kind of, sort of ditched him_ ― _Hey, Matsukawa, this way, idiot.”_

“You’re with Matsukawa?”

_“I needed to get back up. I was surrounded.”_

“So Kuroo and Sakusa are alone?”

_“Yes.”_ Takahiro yawned. _“Fucking shit.”_

“Makki, how tired are you?”

_“About to pass out,”_ Takahiro admitted.

“Get out of there.”

_“I already made Matsukawa aware he has to fight_ ― _”_ A yawn interrupted him, and he cursed again. _“Has to fight on his own. I’m staying out of stuff.”_

Tooru chewed on his lip. “Fine. Hurry up. Tell me when you find Atsumu or I’m sending in Iwa and Tobio.”

_“Fine.”_

* * *

Keiji continued to drag Koutarou with all his strength, struggling up the stairs to pull him up. He froze halfway up the stairs when the door opened. For a second, he thought he would have to drop Koutarou and run. Not like he would ever do that. He would stay with him and whatever happened would happen. Though he didn’t have to. There was Hajime, someone he knew; someone there to _help_ him.

“Iwaizumi.” Keiji shifted Koutarou on his shoulder. He was completely unconscious at this point. “Help.”

Hajime rushed down the stairs to him, standing on the other side of Koutarou to help bring him up the stairs. They got through the door, leaving it open behind them as they headed through the woods to where they had their cars hidden behind some trees. 

“Iwaizumi,” Keiji whispered. “Weren’t there guards around here?”

“Yeah, but I took them out.”

“You took them out?”  
  


“Yeah, it wasn’t that hard.” Just as he said that, Keiji and Hajime passed someone unconscious on the ground clearly bleeding from his head with a bloody rock right next to them. Creative. “What happened to him?” Hajime asked while looking at Koutarou.

“Torture.”

“Then we need Hanamaki.”

Keiji nodded. “Though before Hanamaki goes over all his wounds to find out everything that had happened to him, he’ll need that doctor ― Konoha.”

“Yeah,” Hajime hummed in agreement. “Let’s just get back to the car. We still need to wait for everyone or at least enough people so there’ll be enough room in the other car for everyone.”

“A full car.”

“What?”

“We’d need a full car since we’re adding four more people otherwise there won’t be enough room in the other car to leave.”

Hajime sighed. “Fuck.”

* * *

Takahiro and Issei were almost at the cut off in the hallway where Atsumu and Takahiro had parted ways with Keiji. He could see it up ahead and part of him was glad. Takahiro didn’t want to sleep. He hated it, he refused to do it most of the time, and he didn’t want to pass out here. Not when he had to help on this job, not if someone would have to carry him out. He did not want to be the only one dragged out unconscious.

_‘Well, I guess Bokuto is unconscious. I won’t be the only one.’_

“Hanamaki.” Issei walked in front of Takahiro, holding his shoulders to get him to look at him. “You’re spacing out.”

“I’m fine, Matsukawa. Seriously―” Takahiro saw over Issei’s shoulder. His heart dropped. He wasn’t sure if what he was seeing was a hallucination or if it was real, though he couldn’t think properly, so he acted on instinct. Takahiro grabbed Issei’s shoulders back and moved him aside.

Instead of Issei, Takahiro was the one who had the metal pipe slammed into the side of his skull and knocked to the side. He felt his back slam into the cages that were to the left of him, and he passed out before he hit the ground.

It was real.

  
  


“Hanamaki!” 

Issei wanted to run to Takahiro’s side as quickly as he could, but he didn’t have a chance. The guy who had hit Takahiro over the head was getting closer. Issei was quick to swing his leg, slamming his heel into the guy’s cheek. It was a hard enough kick to knock the guy out, Issei powered just about everything he had into it. The guy hit the wall on the other side of the hall, falling down unconscious. 

Issei kneeled down next to Takahiro, hand setting over the side of his head where he noticed a wound dripping with blood already. His attention was fully set on Takahiro, so when a guy came behind him and hit him in the back with the same metal pole the other guy had, Issei was thrown off. 

He felt his back start to throb, and he turned on his heel, standing up quickly and throwing a punch. Issei hit him in the face, sending him staggering backward. The man tripped on his unconscious friend where he slammed his skull into the brick wall. He recovered quickly, ready as he lifted the metal pipe once more.

“Matsukawa! Hanamaki!” Issei and his attacker looked over. Down the hallway were Atsumu, Shouyou, and two others ― Issei only guessed they were the people they had to save. Atsumu, with a lifted gun, shot the guy in the knee, and the man crouched down, wrapping his arms around it and falling to his side.

Issei ditched that guy, running back to Takahiro’s side, Atsumu and Shouyou making their way over a few seconds after.

“What happened?” Atsumu asked quickly.

“I was ― it was my fault,” Issei muttered. He put a hand to Takahiro’s forehead. “He’s out cold.” Atsumu put a hand on Issei’s shoulder. 

“It wasn’t yer fault.”

“How do you even know that?” Issei slipped an arm under Takahiro’s legs, then the back of his neck, lifting him off the ground.

“I can’t explain it,” Atsumu mumbled. “But if it was anyone else, they would’ve stayed conscious. It was _because_ it was Hanamaki.”

“What does that even mean?” Issei stood up with him, raising an eyebrow at Atsumu. 

“Just―” Atsumu sighed. “Let’s get outta here.” There was clearly something that Atsumu knew that he wasn’t saying, but Issei ignored it and nodded.

* * *

Tetsurou turned his head as he stared at the face of the guy whose cheek he pushed into the floor with the bottom of his boot. He sighed, giving his foot a twist and kicking the guy aside. “We should get out of here,” he said.

“Yeah?” Kiyoomi looked around the room. Tons of either dead or unconscious bodies all due to them taking out what seemed like waves of people. It seemed like the distraction was a success since tons of _them_ were heading after Kiyoomi and Tetsurou instead of downstairs. “Shouldn’t we wait until someone gets back to us?”

Tetsurou shrugged. “Probably but I’m not sure if there’s anyone else coming.” He wiped the blade of his knife off on the side of his pants. “Head into the basement to help or leave?” Kiyoomi held his bottom lip between his teeth, and he looked around the room. The amount of blood on the ground made him cringe. Everything was so dirty.

“Yeah,” Kiyoomi muttered under his breath, slipping off his gloves. He threw them to the ground and sighed. “Let’s get out of here.”

  
  


They headed out of the front door, at first completely forgetting about the guards. That was until they noticed the bodies outside, clear bullet wounds in their heads. At the sound of approaching footsteps, Kiyoomi lifted his gun and aimed in the dark. That was until he noticed who stepped out. 

“Kageyama,” he said while lowering the gun. “You killed the guards?”

“You needed a safe way out.” Tobio gave a shrug, and he moved the sniper to his back. “Come on. Iwaizumi, Akaashi, and Bokuto are already back at the car. “We’re going six in one car, seven in the other. We have enough to leave now, and they want to leave now considering Bokuto’s condition.”

Tetsurou sighed, following Tobio back to the vehicles. “Yaku. He’s gonna have to ride in the trunk or something.”

“Why don’t you ride in the trunk?” Kiyoomi muttered under his breath.

“Because I’m six-two and Yaku is five-five.”

“I wouldn’t say that to his face,” Tobio said.

“Why not?”

“Sensitive about his height.” They were closer to the car, and they could see Keiji leaned in the back seat of the car, probably reaching in the car to help Koutarou’s injuries. Hajime was leaned against the front hood of the car, hands on the gun, eyes watching around to keep watch.

“What the hell did you say?” Tetsurou and Tobio froze, looking over, noticing Morisuke sitting on a stump. He had his leg crossed over his leg, a steel sphere in his lap as he shined it with a white cloth.

“Nothing,” Tetsurou said quickly. “What are you doing?” He walked over to him, kneeling down in front of him and turning his head as he stared at the object in Morisuke’s hand.

“Cleaning my bombs.”

“Ooh, can I touch it?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“It’s a bomb.”

“And I’m an idiot.” 

Morisuke sighed, and he handed the bomb off to Tetsurou. “It’s heavy.” Tetsurou held it in his hands, turning it over, stopping at the curved glass of the bomb. He went to flick up the glass, noticing some buttons behind it. Morisuke slapped his hand away. “No.”

Tetsurou frowned. “Fine.”

* * *

Keiji sat in the car, leaned against the door. Koutarou laid unconscious with him, his head in his lap, feet laying on the seat and hanging out of the car through the open door. Keiji had finished wrapping up all his wounds, now stroking back Koutarou’s hair which was still slightly damp from the cold shower. 

“Hey, Akaashi.” Keiji looked up to the other side of the car, locking eyes with Hajime who leaned down to look into the car at him. “The others are here. We have enough to go. Get Bokuto in the back.”

“Can I ride in the back with him?”

Hajime shrugged and nodded.

  
  


They laid in back the same way, Koutarou resting in Keiji’s lap as he ran his fingers through his hair. This time, Keiji had a blanket over Koutarou. 

“You guys comfy in the back?” Tetsurou asked.

“Yes.” 

“‘Kay. Drive away, Iwaizumi.” 

  
  


Keiji felt the car moving, but he was too focused on Koutarou to pay attention to any bumps on the road.

“Hey.”

Keiji looked down, smoothing his hair out of his face. “Bokuto?”

“Hey, ‘Kaashi.”

“How are you feeling?”

“My feet really hurt.” Koutarou’s voice was rough and low. It sounded like it hurt. “Burned,” he mumbled. “They burned them.”

“Sh, I know. Hanamaki will have a look at you so we know what happened to you that way we can get you proper treatment.” 

“How are you?”

Keiji raised an eyebrow. “Me?” Koutarou nodded. “I’m fine, Bokuto,” he said with a smile.

“Good.” Koutarou snuggled his face into Keiji’s chest. “I’m glad you’re okay, ‘Kaashi.”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” Koutarou weakly shrugged, and he moved closer. 

“I’m gonna sleep now, ‘Kaashi.” 

And before Keiji could say another word, Koutarou was out like a light.

* * *

Atsumu, Issei, Shouyou, Daichi, and Koushi had no problem getting back to the car considering Tobio and Hajime had taken out all the guards outside. 

“Hey, why aren’t’cha guys all injured and shit?” Atsumu asked while looking over at Daichi and Koushi. He still had a hand clapped over the wound in his arm.

Daichi gave a shrug.

“Dunno,” Koushi spoke up. “They just didn’t torture us. We don’t know why.”

“I wonder why Bokuto was the only one tortured,” Shouyou mumbled. “Do you think it’s because of his parents?”

“Parents?” Atsumu raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah!” Shouyou nodded. “Bokuto’s parents ran the last agency we worked at! They were our boss! They ended up―” Shouyou bit his lip, his lifting expression ironically dropping from his face. “Well, anyway, Bokuto has always been a target ― him and Kuroo. Kuroo was basically like a second son to the Bokutos.”

“Kuroo?” Atsumu asked.

“Kuroo and Bokuto worked together before in the beginning. They’ve known each other since high school so when Bokuto turned into an assassin at seventeen, Kuroo was a target for people who held a grudge against Bokuto. He ended up getting dragged in.”

Atsumu nodded. “I see.”

  
  


They reached the car, and Issei looked down at Takahiro who was limp in his arms. He stared at him while Atsumu and Hinata set up a comfortable spot in the back. Issei carefully placed Takahiro down on the makeshift bed. 

“Hey, I can fit in the back," Issei said. "I’m gonna stay back here with him.”

Atsumu looked at him, and he sighed. “Alright,” he said. “Yeah, here.” He handed Issei a first aid kit. “Fix up his head while yer back there, wouldja?” Issei took the kit and climbed into the back. The door shut behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Twitter @mattsuhana
> 
> I feel like I don't have to put the "minor killing" TW considering this is an assassin AU but I'm going to do it anyway just incase people are reading this for the funny, non-killy bits because that exists in this


	8. Bandages and worry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone just needs a little bit of patching up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Bonks Hanamaki]

**MAR. 6**

Drumming his fingers on his leg, chewing on his lip, tapping his toe. Was there anything that Issei wasn’t doing to keep himself distracted? He hated this. Issei hated waiting, and he hated waiting for something that he couldn’t speed up. Though Takahiro was out, completely unconscious. What made it worse was Akinori didn’t know when he was going to wake up.

“You seriously have no idea?” Issei mumbled to him. Akinori looked up from the clipboard in his hands. He was reading something on it. Issei felt like there was more on that clipboard than he had been told. “What’s on that clipboard anyway?”

“His medical history.”

“Let me read it.”

“No.” Akinori clicked his pen. He slipped it in his pocket and held the clipboard between his arm and chest. “I’m sorry, I can’t. You have to ask him yourself if you want to know so badly. It would be illegal for me to hand out his medical records to someone not authorized.” Akinori averted his eyes off to the side. “Though reading his history, I doubt he would,” he mumbled quietly.

“What does that mean?”

“Ask him yourself,” Akinori repeated and turned to the door to leave. “Excuse me. I have to go check on Bokuto.”

Issei watched Akinori leave and waited until the door closed behind him to look at Takahiro. His chest rose and fell slowly, short breaths were taken. There was a light red tint on his cheeks, though the rest of his face was incredibly pale. He’d twitch every now and then. It always made Issei’s heart jump. Issei let his head rest on the side of the bed, and he took a deep breath. The first thing he did since getting back from the job was he brought Takahiro to the hospital ward of the building. Instead of leaving, he decided to stay there with him after Akinori had treated his head wound; he hadn’t gone home, and he didn’t shower or change. You could imagine how tired he was having taken out at least twenty guys when he had fought with Kiyoomi and Tetsurou, then he had to fight a few more and take care of Takahiro, carrying him the rest of the way he didn’t make it.

He felt his eyes get heavy, and he passed out on the side of the bed.

* * *

“Hey, doc.” Akinori stopped and turned in the hallway on the way to Koutarou’s room. He looked at the bleached-blonde that called out to him.

“Atsumu, how’s your bullet wound?” 

“It’s fine, actually. Not what I was gonna ask ‘bout.” Akinori raised an eyebrow. “I got my wrist stepped on.” Atsumu held his wrist with his other hand, walking up to Akinori to show it to him. He rubbed on the skin that was slightly turning purple, showing it to Akinori for him to have a look. Akinori reached to him, grabbing his wrist and bending it forward then backward. “Ow.”

“Wrap it up, put some ice on it. Overnight, let it breathe, ‘kay?”

Atsumu nodded. “Yah, thanks.”

  
  


The only place Atsumu knew where there was ice was the kitchen or the lounge room. Normally, he’d pick to go to the kitchen since that was his brother’s domain, but he knew there was a medical kit in the lounge room so he went there instead. It was empty, the lights were off, the room was a bit chilly. Understandable. It was almost twelve at night, and most people had gone home or were working late in their rooms. 

Atsumu stepped into the lounge, flipping the light on before grabbing a zip-up bag from the drawer. He went to the freezer and filled it with ice before setting it back in the cold. Before he put the ice on, he needed to wrap his wrist first. He opened the cupboard above the sink, grabbing out the medical kit, and taking out the wrap. In an effort to wrap it up, he held the end between his thumb and hand, pinching it together as he tried to wrap it around the swelling.

“You know it’s easier for someone else to wrap it, right?”

Atsumu looked to the door, stopping his hand movements from wrapping around his hand. He scoffed and rolled his eyes, going back to struggling to wrap his own injury. “Yah, I know but who else is gonna do it?” He asked as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. Kiyoomi rolled his eyes, walking into the room. He reached up to the same cupboard that Atsumu got the kit from and pulled down a pack of plastic gloves. Atsumu watched carefully as he slipped on a pair and grabbed the twin’s wrists, pinching them between his thumb and pointer finger. “Ow.”

“Just be quiet.” 

Atsumu pursed his lips together and watched. Kiyoomi seemed rude about ‘having’ to help but his grip was so soft. He carefully wrapped the bandage, moving the bandage around his wrist then the area between his hand and thumb. Reaching for the small, silver scissors in the box, Kiyoomi cut the bandage off. 

“Hold it down.” Atsumu did as he was told, pressing the end of the bandage to his palm so it didn’t unravel. Kiyoomi ripped off some medical tape and taped down the bandage. “How’s that?” He asked.

“Great. Thanks.” Kiyoomi nodded and slipped off the gloves, tossing them in the trash before washing his hands. “Why’d ya help me?” Atsumu asked.

“You expected me to just leave you?”

Atsumu shrugged. “Kinda.”

Kiyoomi stood near the table in the room, and he leaned against it, crossing his arms. “I want you to tell me something.”

“Sure.” Atsumu used his one good hand to help boost him to sit on the counter. He swung his feet and turned his head at him. “What’cha need?”

“Why is Hanamaki out like that?”

“Like what?”

“From what I’ve read, Hanamaki has been tortured a shit ton of times. He’s gotten hit to the head like that before and had been perfectly fine. Actually, he'd laugh it off and piss off his torturers so much to the point where people don't even kidnap him anymore because it's pointless as he's unaffected. So why did that knock him out?” 

Atsumu laughed, a fake laugh to hide the fact that Kiyoomi was right. Even Shouyou, someone who easily gets knocked out simply because he’s only taken a blow to the head two or three times in his five years of working, wouldn’t have gotten knocked out.

The twin still played stupid. “Whaddya mean?” He asked.

“What are you not telling us?” 

“Nothin’,” Atsumu hummed. Kiyoomi didn’t buy it, and he stepped closer. The twin leaned his head back, softly hitting it on the cabinet. “Ow,” he whispered.

“He’s been acting weird the entire time.”

“Then how do ya know it’s weird? Could be normal for ‘im.”

“Miya.”

“ _Atsumu_ ,” Atsumu corrected, and he hopped off the counter. He grabbed the ice from the freezer and set it on his wrist, “and when Hanamaki wants to tell his little secret, he will.” He walked to the door, opening with his free hand and pushing it open with his back. “Yer hidin’ somethin’ too, Omi. I know it.”

Kiyoomi said nothing but stared. 

“If ya tell me yers, I’ll tell ya Makki’s.” He was silent again. Atsumu let out a small chuckle. “That’s what I thought. See ya, Omi-Omi.”

* * *

“How is Bokuto?”

Akinori sighed, stabbing the pen on his clipboard a few times. “Well, I’ve done basic treatment for his wounds that I can see, but I won’t know specifically what was done to him to properly treat it ― that only involves things like mental things like if he was brainwashed or something. The rest I can figure out without Hanamaki.” Akinori sighed, and Keiji nodded. “You said Bokuto had regained consciousness?” Akinori asked.

“Yeah, in the car on the way here.”

“What did he say?”

“He just said his feet were burned and that they hurt,” Keiji mumbled, staring down at his hands as his fingers started to dance around each other. “That part was kind of obvious though.”

“Hanamaki is your torturer, isn’t he?” Keiji nodded. The doctor dragged his teeth along his bottom lip. “Is this stuff about Hanamaki true?” He asked while pointing to the clipboard, the one that Issei had wanted to read that briefly explained Takahiro’s medical history.

Keiji sighed and nodded. “Yeah.”

“How long has it been going on for? The nightmares.”

“A few years.”

“Medicine doesn’t work?”

“The only medicine that works is ones he takes to keep consciousness.”

Akinori nodded, raised the pen to his mouth, and chewed on the end of it. “Has anything stopped them?”

“One time they stopped,” Keiji muttered. “He had this best friend, loved him to death, hung out all the time. He made Hanamaki feel safe.” Keiji let out a sigh and fell back into his seat, resting his arms on the armrests, eyes blankly staring at the floor with a dead glare. “Then he―” He took a deep breath. “He just wasn’t who we thought he was.”

“Spy?” Akinori asked, and Keiji nodded. “How’d you figure out?”

“Hanamaki caught him talking with the people he was spying for. We wanted to torture him for information but―” Keiji’s fingernails scratched the armrest. “Let’s just say Hanamaki was suspended for two weeks.”

Akinori’s eyes widened. “What did he―?” He trailed off, part of him not wanting to know. Akinori inhaled sharply. He had an idea that Takahiro was dangerous, scary, amazingly-trained with only a few people knowing his real capabilities based on some rumors that had been spread around from other, non-field-working staff. Only the ones at Fukurodani that had been working with Takahiro all these years knew about how much of a threat he could be.

“Hanamaki is something,” Keiji mumbled. “He was more pissed off about learning it than he was upset about it being true.” He looked up at Akinori, the eye contact was harsher than he had hoped, like hail hitting a window. Akinori felt a shudder, and he shook his shoulders, hugging the clipboard tight. “The easiest way to put it?” Keiji bit his bottom lip. “Hanamaki really wanted him to know it was possible to die from pain.”

Akinori looked down at his clipboard, unable to gather anything to say back.

“Anyway,” Keiji sighed, “Hanamaki isn’t easy to trust people anymore. He just can’t do it.”

“He seems pretty close to Matsukawa.”

Keiji nodded. “Yeah, but he doesn’t _trust_ him.”

“How do you know?” Akinori leaned his back against the counter, setting the clipboard behind him so he could cross his arms.

“Because I haven’t seen the same look in his eyes, even when looking at Matsukawa.”

“Do you ever think he will?” Akinori asked.

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that, _Doctor_?”

Akinori chuckled. “Maybe, but sometimes, when things have to do with the mind, it’s better to ask someone who knows the person than a doctor, in my medical experience.” Akinori turned around and reached into a cupboard. He pulled down a box of pills and started picking up bottles, looking at the labels. “If you wanted to know what would be the best way to cheer Bokuto up if he was upset, asking a doctor wouldn’t really be a reliable source.” 

Keiji squinted, watching and listening carefully. 

“A doctor would name off possible fun activities or they would just straight up say, _‘something that he likes; something that he enjoys’_.” Akinori picked up a bottle and set it out of the box, putting it aside on the counter before returning the box to the cupboard. “However, if you asked Kuroo, someone who has known Bokuto a long time,” he turned and handed Keiji the bottle of pills. The assassin stared down at it, reading the label on it as if he knew what he was just handed to him, “Kuroo would be able to give a better answer since he knows him so well.” He smiled. “So you tell me: do you think Hanamaki will ever be able to trust anyone again?”

Keiji stared at the pill bottle, not reading it anymore but thinking about what Akinori said. He was right, he knew he was. It made sense, enough for Keiji to think hard enough about it to give an answer. “I think…” Keiji paused. “I think he will. It’ll take time but Hanamaki will come around.”

“Then he’ll come around,” Akinori said with a smile, a soft pat to Keiji’s shoulder. He pointed to the bottle of pills he handed Keiji. “Have Hanamaki try those before he sleeps.”

Keiji cocked an eyebrow at the bottle, then he looked up to Akinori. “We’ve already tried medication to block out dreams.”

“I know,” Akinori nodded, “but based on what I've read, I know you haven’t tried those, and I have some experience with those working. Your last doctor sucked, did you know?”

Keiji sighed, letting his head fall. “Yeah, I know.” 

“Try those then,” Akinori said. “I’m gonna go give him a dose of it right now.”

“Thanks,” Keiji mumbled.

* * *

Even though Tetsurou considered himself a pretty annoying guy, he wasn't selfish; he wasn’t going to take the doctor away from taking care of the people who really needed the medical attention. So Tetsurou sat on one of the beds in the medical ward in a room that he told Akinori he didn’t need to check up on because _‘Oh, I can take care of my own wounds. Go help Bokuto and Makki.’_ Which, for the most part, that statement was true.

Tetsurou had his chest wrapped up in all the spots where he could feel or see a cut from a knife. It only covered simple skims and cuts which he had tons of. They were scattered on his arms, chest, maybe he’d find some on his back if he cared to look in the mirror, but he gave up on those since they were too hard to reach.

_‘I mean, they’ll stop bleeding_ sometime _.’_ It really wasn’t a good thought, definitely not a smart one, but when it came to Tetsurou’s own self-care, he never really put any effort into thinking. A majority of the time, he didn’t really care if he lived or died. He’d sacrifice himself if he had to.

“What are you doing?” Tetsurou looked toward the entrance of the room. It was Morisuke with a hand on the doorway, staring into the room with a cocked eyebrow.

“Bandaging,” Tetsurou stated, and he raised his arm, wrapping the medical wrap around his arm like an idiot. He really didn’t know what he was doing, and he knew from just this that he would’ve never passed medical school if he had made an effort to. Thank god he met Koutarou.

Morisuke sighed, and he sauntered into the room, grabbing the first aid kit Tetsurou left on the counter and moved to stand in front of him. He set it on the bed next to Tetsurou and stopped him from continuing to improperly wrap his own wounds. “Stop. Seriously,” he said. “First of all,” Morisuke began to say while unwrapping Tetsurou’s arm. Tetsurou had let his other hand fall, dropping the bandage on the bed next to him, watching Morisuke closely. “There’s still dirt in the wounds. Why the fuck are you dirty?”

“I got knocked to the floor a few times.”

“And?”

“And I mean it wasn’t the best-swept building I’ve ever stepped into.”

Morisuke sighed, and he slipped on a pair of gloves. He picked up a small package of cleaning wipes, tearing them open. Pulling out one, he tossed the rest on top of the box and peered up at Tetsurou. “This is gonna sting,” he said.

Tetsurou shrugged. “Eh, go for it.” Morisuke said nothing, putting his attention back to the small cuts that covered Tetsurou’s arms. He dragged the cold wipes down his arms, Tetsurou sucking in a sharp breath of air as his back straightened out. “Fuck. You could’ve warned me it was gonna be cold too.” 

Morisuke rolled his eyes. “Baby.”

“You think it’s the time for pet names?” Tetsurou asked with a cocky smirk.

“I’m insulting you.” Morisuke glared at him, but Tetsurou merely chuckled. “Give me the bandage.” Tetsurou picked up the bandage, placing it in Morisuke’s stretched out palm. 

“Here you are, Doc.” 

Morisuke ignored the stupid names and comments Tetsurou made and wrapped the bandage around his arm properly. He did it a lot better and faster than Tetsurou had been attempting to. The shorter one repeated on his other arm, and he unwrapped Tetsurou’s chest, properly treating it and even getting to the spots on his back where Tetsurou couldn’t reach. He smoothed his hand over the bandage on his shoulder, running his hand up and over, fingers skimming against his collarbone.

“You seem like you would be good at giving a massage.”

“No.”

“It was worth an effort.”

Morisuke rolled his eyes once more. He swore if he kept having to deal with Tetsurou’s stupid comments, his eyes were sure to get literally stuck in the back of his head. It wasn’t like he minded it. He thought the comments were kind of funny, no matter how stupid they were. Not that he would ever admit that to anyone.

He finished treating Tetsurou and backed away from the bed, moving to the sink and counter that was in the room to wash his hands after having discarded the gloves in the trash.

“Thanks,” Tetsurou said. “I didn’t expect that.”

Morisuke frowned, turning to Tetsurou with a towel in his hands. “Expect what?”

“You, to come and,” Tetsurou looked down at his arms, admiring the bandages ― Morisuke thought it weird he was admiring them as if he hadn’t ever been bandaged up before, at least by somebody else, “fix me up.”

“If you passed by a room and watched an idiot struggle with bandages, would you walk by?” Morisuke tossed the towel on the counter. 

“Okay, one, I’m not an idiot.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“Shut up. No, yes, maybe.” Tetsurou sighed. “Two, I meant _you_ help _me_.”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing. That’s why I’m confused.” Tetsurou hopped down from the bed. “Don’t you find me undeniably annoying?”

Morisuke crossed his arms. “Of course I do.” Tetsurou frowned as if he didn’t ask a question that was begging for that type of response. “But I also wasn’t going to let you bleed out or get your wounds infection because you’re too dumb to get someone to properly treat you.”

“Infection sounds like a cool way to die.” 

Morisuke sighed and headed for the door. “You’re an idiot.”

“Yakkun.” Morisuke paused at the door, biting his tongue at his new nickname. Where did that even come from? He looked over his shoulder at him. “Thanks,” Tetsurou said again.

“Yeah,” Morisuke mumbled. “Whatever.”

* * *

Shouyou leaned on the counter of the armory desk. He got too close, his breath hitting the glass that separated the backroom and the main room of the armory. “Hey, Hitoka, I brought back weapons!” He backed up, setting the backpack on the counter. Hitoka and Shouyou had talked at the welcoming party, and they got together well, both of them having personalities that clicked. 

“Weren’t you one of the ones kidnapped?” Hitoka asked a little concern sounded in her voice as she opened the small door of the window, pulling the bag through before shutting it. She moved it to the side on the table in the room she was in and turned back to look at the human tangerine in front of her.

“Yeah, but why does that matter?” 

Hitoka narrowed her eyes at him at first, but then she relaxed her face and sighed. By now, working in this type of work, she was pretty used to seeing people who seemed to have unlimited stamina. Like Takahiro, for instance, someone she knew for a _very_ long time. He was something ― hardworking, nonstop, a machine, that was for sure if you also didn’t count his unlimited issues. “Thanks, Hinata,” she replied with a smile.

“Yup!” 

  
  


Shouyou slid out of the room, humming a tune as he began to make his way back to his office. That was when he saw Tobio walking in the hallway. He carried a long, metal, rectangle case and headed to where Shouyou came from.

“Kageyama!” Shouyou stood in front of him, and he smiled. “Thanks for coming to save me.”

“I just shot a few guys from a tree.”

“So? You still did something.” He elbowed Tobio in the arm. “Hey, we should do a job together.” 

“I don’t usually do jobs that you do,” Tobio informed, and Shouyou shrugged. 

“I can teach you.”

“You? Teach me?” Tobio scoffed. 

Shouyou frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You suck.” Shouyou crossed his arms with a ticked eyebrow. “Get to the point, Hinata.”

“I can help you work on the field, like communications and social interaction," Shouyou said with a grin. "You don't seem very good at that,” he added in a mutter.

“And?” Tobio asked, knowing there was some sort of catch. He had a few conversations with Shouyou before. Sometimes they had small arguments, but they usually ended with them agreeing with each other or coming to a compromise. 

“And maybe you could help me out with learning how to shoot? I don't do it often, but still.” Shouyou shrugged. 

Tobio thought for a few moments, narrowing his eyes at Shouyou. He chewed his lip, lifting his hand with the case and scratching his wrist with his other hand.

“I’ll think about it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Twitter @mattsuhana


	9. Uneven match of five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little distraction is needed

**MAR. 9**

It was a long report, and it took Keiji a few days to complete it but he did. Not that it was difficult to do, it was just long and Keiji wouldn’t stop taking breaks. He would leave to check up on Koutarou every now and then who still wasn’t awake during the three days that had passed, and neither was Takahiro. Takahiro was understandable, he needed to make up for all the sleep he didn’t get the last _nine_ days he didn’t. Koutarou was still needing to rest.

Keiji thought he should at least rest for a few more days though he couldn’t say that he wasn’t a bit excited when there was the owl standing at his door. 

Koutarou swung his knuckles back, knocking on the door as he leaned against the doorway. Keiji froze seeing him at the door, and he slowly rose from his chair. “Bokuto?”

“Akaashi.” Koutarou smiled, he stepped into the room, stopping in front of Keiji. “Still up for the lesson?” Keiji ignored his comment. He dragged his fingertips down the sides of his arms, sending a shudder through Koutarou as his fingers skimmed along the bandages. Koutarou had a shirt on, unlike how he had the entire time he was sleeping as he was covered in bandages. From the bottoms of his short sleeves, you could see the bandages peek out.

Keiji noticed Koutarou leaned on one foot, and he grabbed his hand. “Sit down,” Keiji said. He pulled him into the room, pushing him down carefully to sit in his chair. Koutarou was forced to sit, falling down onto the soft cushion with a quiet thud. “Why are you walking around on your foot, and when did you wake up?”

“A few hours ago.”

“A few hours ago?” Keiji looked over at his computer screen, squinting down at the corner where it showed the time. He had been so focused on work that he forgot to do his hourly check-up on Koutarou. “Sorry, I meant to check up on you,” he mumbled.

“You don’t have to do that, ‘Kaashi!” Koutarou smiled. “I’m fine! I think I might need to be on crutches for a bit,” he mumbled quietly, looking down at his foot as he painfully rolled his ankle, wincing slightly.

“I think that would be a good idea.” Keiji walked to the small fridge he had in his room, he had a small fridge that was next to the table with his own coffee pot. He grabbed out a bottle of cold water and handed it to Koutarou. “I’ll go grab a pair of crutches as well as some medicine from Konoha, then I’ll drive you home, okay?”

“Okay, you definitely don’t have to do all that.” 

Keiji smiled. “I want to.” He grabbed his keys from his desk and headed for the door. “You can look up computer games while I’m gone.”

* * *

“Matsukawa, I’m serious. Come on.” Hajime tugged on Issei’s arm. He was still sitting on the chair that was put next to Takahiro’s bed, the copper brown-haired assassin still passed out since three days ago. “You need to get out and do something or you’re not gonna be useful during another mission. You’re gonna be all weak and untrained.”

Issei sighed in response, still staring at his unconscious coworker on the bed. Takahiro’s breath would still hitch every now and then; he’d still give a slight twitch whether it was his whole body or just a limb. Issei had figured out they were normal by now, but he still never got used to seeing Takahiro’s face when he did twitch. “I know,” he mumbled into the skin of his palm. He sat up straight, scratching the surface of his thighs. “I know, you’re right.” Issei stood up, his eyes were still on Takahiro. “What do you have in mind?”

“Oikawa and I with a few others were going to do some training. Join with.”

“Alright.” He took a deep breath. “Alright, let’s go.”

* * *

“So, Oikawa,” Issei began just to spark up some conversation and get his mind off his unconscious friend. Tooru looked up from his locker and glanced over at him, giving Issei a small _‘hum’._ “I thought you did analysis work. What’s up with the training?”

Tooru sighed, and he pulled the black turtle neck from his locker, holding it up and staring at it as if he was reminiscing. “Well, as I said before, I used to work with knives, like Kuroo.”

“Really? You're shitting me.” Tetsurou looked over from his locker. He walked over and put an arm on Tooru’s shoulder. “You don’t look it.”

“Do you mean because I don’t have a lot of scars on my body?”

“Yes.”

Tooru chuckled. “That’s because I worked more offensive than defensive. Your fighting style is―” Tooru pulled the shirt over his head and stuck out his bottom lip. “Like going on defensive with slight attacks back until you wear them out or find an opening.” He pulled the turtle neck over his head and fixed the sleeves. “My fighting style is the opposite by being completely offensive with little defense.”

“Wouldn’t that make you more vulnerable to getting hit?” Tetsurou asked.

“Not necessarily,” Morisuke chimed in. He was putting a belt around his waist, attacking tons of random equipment to it. No one was sure what they were or what they were used for, only that they were possibly for traps due to his specialty. “Since you all are new, you’ve never seen Oikawa actually in action.”

“And you have?” Tetsurou asked, craning his neck so he could look back at Morisuke whose locker was on the other side of the locker room. 

“Yes,” Morisuke hissed, glaring. “I’d make explosives for him, small ones he’d slip into people’s pockets mid-battle before slipping away.”

“Yakkun!” Tooru whined. “Don’t tell them about our method!”

“Whatever. Low chances we’ll be on the same team.”

“There’s like a third chance.”

“Shut up.”

  
  


With their gear on and ready, the five of them stood in a circle. Hajime held sticks, two had blue ends, two had red ends, and one had a green end. He held the colorful parts of the stick out of sight in the palm of his hand. “Alright, teams will be decided this way,” Hajime began. “Everyone picks a stick. There’ll be one person who is on their own team. That person will have a green stick. Everyone grab one.” 

They all reached for a stick. Tetsurou purposely slapped away Tooru’s hand and grabbed the stick that he planned on grabbing. Tooru glared at him, keeping his eyes boring into the side of Tetsurou’s skull as he grabbed another stick. The bedhead only snickered and held his stick to himself.

“Alright, check your color,” Hajime mumbled. 

  
  


Hajime: red

Tetsurou: red

Tooru: blue

Issei: blue

Morisuke: green

  
  


“Oh, you’ve got to be shitting me,” Morisuke mumbled.

Tetsurou laughed and patted him on the shoulder. “You’ll do great.”

“Don’t touch me,” Morisuke snapped while snapping his hand away. “I can’t even use real bombs or I’ll hurt someone.”

“You’ll do fine, Yakkun!” Tooru said, and he cocked back the barrel of the gun and pointed it to the ceiling with a smirk. “I believe in you.”

“Shut it. Let’s go.”

* * *

“It’s easy,” Tobio said, staring at Shouyou as he stood with the sniper in his hand in the shooting range.

“It’s also kind of heavy,” Shouyou commented, frowning at the gun. Tobio sighed and moved to stand behind Shouyou. He reached over his back, moving the strap of the sniper to fit more comfortably on Shouyou’s shoulder. “Hey, that’s better.” 

“Yeah, idiot. You were wearing it wrong.” Tobio lifted the gun to properly sit how it was supposed to be held, putting the butt of the gun in Shouyou’s shoulder. “Here. Put this here.”

“Shouldn’t I be starting with a smaller gun?” Shouyou asked, shifting his shoulder around, not being a fan of the feeling of the gun pressing against his shoulder. He really wasn’t used to this, and he wasn’t sure how Tobio was.

“If you start with the harder stuff, everything else seems like it’s easy.”

Shouyou sighed. “If you say so.”

“Here―” Tobio pointed to the top part of the butt of the gun, “is the cheekpiece. It’s for comfort while holding the gun.” Shouyou nodded. Tobio pointed to a trigger on the side. “You pull this back before you shoot which will push the bullet in place. When you fire, the bullet will be pushed up and you’ll have to re-position this switch back to fire again.” Tobio picked up a pair of headphones, which is something that Shouyou would need since this would be his first time being that close to a firing weapon. “You try after I give you the thumbs up.” Tobio set the headphones over his ear and backed away. He stood off to the side, gave him a thumbs-up, and crossed his arms.

Shouyou pretended like he understood everything Tobio had explained. He stuck out his tongue, reaching up and pulling back the same switch that Tobio had told him to. His thumb hovered over the trigger, and he lightly pushed on it. Tobio wanted to call him a _‘coward’_ and tell him to just shoot already, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to hear. Not with those headphones on. So Tobio waited. It took Shouyou a few moments before he finally fired the sniper.

It only hit the second outer ring. 

Tobio scoffed. He stepped up to Shouyou and pulled off the noise-canceling headphones from the ginger's head. The sniper set them down on the hanging counter that held a bulletproof glass window above it, a square window there for aiming through. 

“Did I ― was that good?”

“No,” Tobio chuckled. “No, that was absolutely horrible.” Shouyou frowned. Tobio's lip slightly curved. He found himself biting it back as best as he could. 

“Kageyama, that’s rude!”

“Don’t be so shit at it then.”

  
  


“Guys,” Shouyou and Tobio looked to the door of the shooting range. They didn’t even hear the door open. “‘Tsumu told me to bring ya food.”

Tobio lifted the sniper strap off Shouyou’s shoulder and pulled the gun off him carefully, switching the safety on the gun before setting it on the counter. Shouyou jumped to their visitor, grabbing the plastic bag with two takeout containers in it.

“‘Samu!” Shouyou looked in the bag. “Thanks!”

Osamu chuckled. “No problem.” He chuckled and kicked the door open with his foot. “See ya later.”

* * *

Osamu left the shooting range into the armory. He looked around at all the weapons, scanning the sets and sets of the variety of tools as he walked by. There shelves upon shelves of them. He always felt a shiver when he walked through the place. Osamu liked working in the kitchen for a reason.

“See something you like?” A soft voice asked. Osamu turned, looking through the bulletproof window. There was the small, blonde woman behind the glass. Her hair was clipped back with a small clip, a smile on her face as she leaned on the counter on her side of the room, face in her palm. 

Osamu looked around left and right before he walked up to the counter. “Not really my thing actually,” he said, and he began to smile. “Think ya already knew that.”

“Then why do you work in a business like this?” She asked.

“Mhm, probably ‘cause my fiancé works here,” Osamu said.

“Wow,” she said. “Who?”

“Some crazy woman who said _‘yes’._ ”

Hitoka rolled her eyes. “You’re an idiot.” She opened the door of the glass that was meant for passing through weapons and leaned through it. “What’s for dinner tonight?”

Osamu grabbed her hands, staring down at the left one and spinning the engagement ring. Twisting it once, twice, thrice. “Whateva ya want.”

Hitoka smiled. “I guess I better start thinking then.”

“Guess ya should.” Osamu leaned through the window and placed a kiss on her cheek. “I’ll come get’cha later, ‘kay?”

“Osamu,” Hitoka rolled her eyes, “we both know I’m going to come and get you, Mr. _‘I must finish this last project.’_ ” 

Osamu laughed, and he leaned back out of the window with a smile. “Yah, yer right.” He slapped the counter before walking away. “See ya ‘round six?”

“Six,” Hitoka nodded, and Osamu slipped from the armory with a wink.

* * *

“Good team. This is a good team. I like working with you.” 

“Shut up,” Hajime muttered, and he cocked the sniper, lifting it close to his head as he peered around a tree. 

Tetsurou frowned. “That’s rude.” He flicked the knife from his hand, letting it roll over his knuckles before it landed in the palm of his hand. “You snipe people, I run in, you protect my back. We work like a family.”

“You say this every time we get stuck together.” Hajime lifted his weapon, pressing the end of it to Tetsurou’s shoulder. “These bullets are fake, I will shoot you.”

“But they’re fake.”

“They still hurt like hell,” Hajime threatened through his teeth. He lowered their gun and looked around, scanning his eyes up in the trees. “I’m climbing up there.”

“Alright,” Tetsurou said, pulling out a second knife from his belt. It was hard to do practice fights with real knives, and it was hard to find a replacement. Though Tetsurou was determined since, years ago before he had come up with the substitute, he really wanted to join in. He came up with plastic knives that could still be sharp enough to cut with the blades, just not stab. Then he also added in the honor system. _‘If you’re stabbed, admit it. Be ‘dead’.’_ “I’ll man the fort down here,” Tetsurou said.

“Yeah, you do that,” Hajime muttered, and he shifted the sniper to his back. He began to climb the tree, reaching for a branch and hoisting himself up. 

“Wait, what did you mean by _‘stuck together’_?”

“You just now realized I said that?” Hajime hooked his leg around a thick branch, pressing his palms down on the bark to keep himself stable as he cocked an eyebrow at Tetsurou.

“Well, I wasn’t really paying attention.”

Hajime sighed. “Naturally.”

  
  


_Issei and Tooru VS Hajime and Tetsurou VS Morisuke._

* * *

Issei glanced over at Tooru, an eyebrow shifting up as he watched him. “Oikawa, what are you doing?”

“Fixing this.” Tooru looked down at his waist with a sign, repositioning a belt on his hips that really didn’t need to be moved. 

“It looks fine.”

“Aw,” Tooru looked over at Issei, “you complimented me.”

Issei looked straight ahead of him as he walked. He shoved his hands in his pockets and sighed. “I take it back immediately.”

“Mattsun, you’re so rude!” Tooru sighed. “I was hoping someone would join us that wouldn’t be a prick like Tsum-Tsum and Makki.”

“‘Mattsun’. ‘Tsum-Tsum and Makki’.” Issei raised an eyebrow at Tooru, who glanced over, blindly taking out a knife and quickly sliding it back into place.

“You, of course, then Atsumu and Hanamaki.”

“Creative. When did you come up with that?”

“Well, for you, it was like a few days ago. For ‘Tsumu and Makki it was probably a few years ago when we first met.” Tooru tilted his head back, staring up at the sky when he could get a glance at them through the tree branches. They walked through a part of the woods where there was a faint trail. Issei couldn’t make it out, but it seemed like Tooru was pretty familiar with it. 

“How long have you known Hanamaki―“ He paused for a second before adding, “and Atsumu.” You know, try not to show he was really asking just for Takahiro.

“Oh, a few years.” Tooru ran his fingers through his hair, pushing the bangs back. “Makki joined when he was eighteen, ‘Tsum joined when he was sixteen.”

“ _‘Joined’._ How long have you been here?”

“Mhm.” Tooru swung his arms like a child. It didn’t seem like he was taking this practice seriously at all considering this was his first practice mission in what Issei was sure was _at least_ a couple of months. “I’m a beautiful twenty-four years young.”

“Of course.”

“So about twelve years.”

“You’ve been doing this since you were twelve?” Issei asked, kind of dumbfounded.

Tooru nodded. “Yup.”

“Why?”

“Parents died, sent to an orphanage. Keishin adopted me when he figured out I was an orphan after trying to pickpocket him on the street.” Tooru stretched his arms above his head and sighed. “My luck considering he took me in. I snooped around and learned what he did. He didn’t want to train me, but I begged him to.”

“Really? Why’d you want to do it so badly?”

Tooru shrugged. “I saw people doing it so I got into it.” He turned his head at him. “How’d you get into it?”

“That,” Issei said, and he ran his teeth on his bottom lip, “is a long story.”

“We have time.”

Issei held out an arm, stopping Tooru from walking. “Do we?” He asked in a hushed voice. 

“Huh?” Tooru looked up then down, and then finally to Issei, raising an eyebrow to say he was still confused.

“Wire.” Issei pointed a finger down.

“Wire?” Tooru looked down. He sighed, the glare of the fishing wire that sat at the tip of his shoe. "Yakkun."

“Are you following a trail?”

“Yeah, I don’t want to get lost.” Issei slapped Tooru on the back of the head. “Ow!”

“I’m sure Yaku knows the layout of the land as well as you do, if not, better since he usually sets up things like traps.” Issei stepped over the wire. “I don’t care if you don’t want to get lost, you’re gonna get us killed.”

“Figuratively killed,” Tooru said while stepping over the wire with him, walking a few feet in front of Issei.

“Just―“ Issei placed his hand on his back and pushed him forward. “Keep moving. Yaku might know where we are now.”

  
  


_Issei and Tooru VS Hajime and Tetsurou VS Morisuke._

* * *

Morisuke looked down from a tree, watching as Issei had put an arm out to stop Tooru from stupidly running into his trap. That had been a first. Usually, he always got Tooru with that, though, of course, Morisuke had never had to deal with Issei. He still didn’t know what to expect from the other two ― even Hajime and Tetsurou. He quietly sighed under his breath, and he moved the small bow on his belt, locking the safety hook to keep it latched onto him before he ran his fingers through his hair. It was a real bow for sure, though the arrows were fake, strong suction cups at the tips so they stuck to others to tell them they got hit without actually hurting them.

Morisuke stood on the branch carefully, looking ahead at the other branch a little in front of him and a bit taller than him. He made a leap, grabbing a hold of it and swinging himself to another tree. For now, he’d leave Tooru and Issei alone and try to go after Hajime and Tetsurou. 

It wasn’t that hard to find them. The two were unfamiliar with the area so they stayed closer to the entrance near the building. It seemed they were camping, Hajime stationed up in a tree, Tetsurou keeping watch on the ground. Hajime kept a look around, but his problem was he monitored the ground. 

_‘Does that means he expects them to be on the ground?’_ Morisuke pulled out an arrow and unhooked a small smoke grenade on his belt. _‘He doesn’t know Oikawa so that tells me Matsukawa must prefer the ground. Matsukawa probably isn’t good at climbing and parkour either.’_ He hooked the grenade to the arrow ― this one was a real arrow only because he had a few that weren’t meant for shooting people. _‘Probably because he’s tall as fuck. Eat tall people.’_

Morisuke pulled out his bow, grabbing ahold of his arrow and pushing the string back with the end of it. He aimed for above Hajime’s head, sticking his tongue out as he squinted a little to make sure he had the proper positioning. Pulling the pin of the hooked-on grenade, Morisuke let go of the arrow as quickly as he could, dropping everything in his hands before he slipped down from the tree. As smoke filled the air around them, Morisuke jumped down and landed on Tetsurou’s back, tackling him to the ground and knocking the blade from his hand. Tetsurou groaned, moving his hands to the back of his head before it could slam into the ground. 

The bomber pulled the plastic knife from his belt, dragging the fake blade along Tetsurou’s neck. Tetsurou sighed, letting his hands fall by the sides of his head in defeat. Morisuke looked up as the smoke began to clear and glanced around, noticing ahead of him was Hajime ditching the scene. He wasn’t that worried about it. Actually, he had expected that. Morisuke only used the smoke grenade so Hajime couldn’t shoot him while he was attacking Tetsurou.

“So,” Tetsurou began, “not taking me out to dinner first?”

“Huh?” Morisuke raised an eyebrow at the bedhead. “What?”

“You’re on my chest.” Morisuke looked down further. He gave Tetsurou a disgusted look, unhooking his leg from around Tetsurou and standing from the ground. Wiping off his pants, Tetsurou stared at him. “Not even gonna help me up?”

“You can get up yourself.”

“Rude.” Tetsurou planted his hands by his head, rolling back slightly on his back to kick himself up to his feet. He let out a groan and wiped his neck, looking down at it after. “Ow."

“You―“ Morisuke grabbed his hand and looked at it. “You’re an idiot. If you were bleeding, why would you touch the cut with your dirty ass hand?” Morisuke slapped him. 

“Owie again." He frowned and rubbed his cheek.

Morisuke pushed him to where he knew the building was. “Walk straight, get to the infirmary. Have Konoha clean and bandage it.”

  
  


_Issei and Tooru VS Hajime ~~and Tetsurou~~ VS Morisuke. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Twitter @mattsuhana
> 
> A little Matsukawa and Oikawa VS Iwaizumi and Kuroo VS Yaku practice match.


	10. Wakey wakey eggs and bakey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Practice match continuation

**MAR. 9**

Quickly, sitting up, the torturer felt the irony of the pain that stung through his body. Everything about him felt on fire from the sped-up breathing that hiccuped in his chest to his fingers and toes feeling numb; from the dried tears on the side of his face to the sweat drenching every inch of his body. He held two fingers to his wrist as if he needed to check if he was alive. 

“Oh, my god,” Takahiro mumbled, and he turned over his hands, palms up as he looked down at his arms. He pulled the multiple tubes from his skin, ripping them out and throwing them to the side. ' _Oh, my god,’_ he thought. _‘Matsukawa. Matsukawa.’_ Takahiro slowly moved his legs, lugging them over the bed with a hard sigh. He stared down at his bare toes, squinting at them as he tried to force them to move. It took probably thirty minutes to get the feeling back in his legs. He grabbed a nearby crutch in the room to help him walk. _‘There should be extra clothes in my office. If I could just get there without being caught.’_

Issei was the first person Takahiro wanted to talk to. Not Atsumu, not Keishin, not Keiji, not Tooru, not Morisuke ― it was Issei. Issei deserved to know.

He stumbled to the door, cracking it open to peek through the small crack. There was someone in the hallway, but they were far ahead from Takahiro’s door and around the corner. He took a deep breath and opened the door the rest of the way, stepping into the hallway. Takahiro moved out, staggering slowly, using the crutch to help him walk down the hallway. He rubbed his temple, trying his best to refresh his mind on where his office was. His memory was a bit fuzzy, even if it was remembering a simple thing like his office.

_‘I hate myself.’_ His fingertips were still a bit numb, but he ignored it, continuing down the hall. He knew the area, looked left and right, and then turned left at the corner to where he finally remembered where to go.

“Hanamaki!” Takahiro froze, and he turned around. Tetsurou stood in the hallway to the left, a small towel pressed to his neck. “You’re awake.”

“Yeah,” Takahiro finally spoke, and his throat hurt. It was low and scratchy. “Have you seen Matsukawa?”

“That’s the first thing you ask?” Tetsurou walked up to him, and he turned his head in thought. “Are you okay? How are you even walking?”

Takahiro shrugged. “I’ve been working at it. Have you seen him?”

“He’s training with Yaku, Oikawa, and Iwaizumi.” Tetsurou put a hand on his shoulder. “Dude, you should be resting.”

“No,” Takahiro muttered, shaking his head. “No, I’m fine. I’m gonna take a shower. When he’s done, tell him to come to my office. Don’t disrupt him, just tell him after.” He lazily pointed to the cloth Tetsurou held over his neck. “You better go get that fixed, and don't tell anyone I'm awake.” Takahiro shuffled away before he could get any more questions.

  
  


In the bathroom of his office, Takahiro stood in front of the mirror. Slowly, he lifted his shirt over his head before tossing it in the corner where a laundry basket sat. He put a hand to his head, slowly running his fingers through it. It was where he had gotten hit. He could at least remember that he had gotten hit over the head, then he got knocked out. That was the last he could remember and the only thing that he could remember. 

He moved to the shower, turning it on and closing the glass door. Takahiro stepped back out and stripped the rest of his clothes. He scratched at his wrist. “What were we doing? What job?” Takahiro chewed his lip. All he could recover from his memory was getting knocked out. He sighed and stepped into the shower. _‘I’ll figure out later.’_

* * *

“You’re sure we’re not on a trail anymore?”

“Yes, I’ve never been this way. Calm down, Mattsun!” 

Issei sighed and stepped over a log. “Well, I just want to be sure we’re not following a path. I get the feeling Yaku is one to not be messed with.”

“You’d be right,” Tooru muttered. Behind Issei, he heard Tooru let out a gasp. Issei turned around, noticing the small dart in Tooru’s neck before he dropped to his knees. “Shit,” Tooru cursed, pulling out the dart and tossing it to the ground. “Run.”

“Iwaizumi.” Issei looked around. With a quick scan around, he caught Hajime’s eyes away in the trees and muttered an apology to Tooru before running.

  
  


Issei knew he was getting closer to the building, he could at least remember that much of the layout of the forest. He wondered where Tetsurou was considering he hadn’t seen him with Hajime. That was until he reached where he believed was the scene of the crime.

There was a knife on the ground, a pin of a grenade, and some smoke that was still left lingering in the air. He waved his hand around, holding his breath a little. That smoke would not be good for him, especially since he just got done literally sprinting away from Hajime. It was mostly cleared, but still, the smoke wouldn’t be fun to breathe in considering Issei was a hundred percent sure that it was a _real_ smoke grenade.

  
  


He guessed Tetsurou was out. Tooru was out. It was one-VS-one-VS-one.

_Issei ~~and Tooru~~ VS Hajime ~~and Tetsurou~~ VS Morisuke. _

* * *

Keiji carried the crutches back to his office. When he had got back, he caught Koutarou doing what he told him to ― playing games on his computer. He chuckled and leaned the crutches on the desk, setting a bag he carried on the desk as well. Keiji looked over at the screen to see exactly what he was doing. “Having fun?” He asked.

“I’ve never played this game before,” Koutarou said. “It’s fun ― hey, what’s that?” Koutarou asked, pointing at the bag Keiji placed down.

“Your medicine.”

“Oh, yeah, I forgot you were getting that.” Koutarou closed out of his game. He leaned back in the office chair, stretching his arms high over his head. “What are we doing now, ‘Kaashi?”

“I,“ Keiji handed Koutarou the crutches, “am going to drive you home so that you can rest.”

“I don’t need rest,” Koutarou pouted. “I’ve been resting for three days.”

“Not enough. Come on. Get up. Let’s go.”

“Okay, but you don’t have to drive me home.”

“Yes, I do. Come on.”

  
  


Keiji made Koutarou leave his office, locking it behind him while Koutarou had begun his head start down the hallway. He reached where the hallway parted and froze seeing who was there. The man raised a finger to his lips and shushed him before he could say something. He waved for him to follow him, mouthing, _‘Come alone’_ before he disappeared down the other hallway.

“Uh, Akaashi?” Koutarou called out, and Keiji raised an eyebrow at him, swinging the keys around in his hand. “You go and start the car. I got to do something real quick.”

Keiji shrugged. “Alright. Don’t take too long.” Keiji yawned, stretching his hands above his head as he headed down the other hallway. “I’m actually kind of tired.”

“Yeah! I’ll be real quick!” 

  
  


Koutarou turned on his crutches and headed down the hallway. He headed into the room he knew where the other went ― thankfully he had left the door open.

“You’re awake,” Koutarou said when he stopped in the doorway. The man standing leaned at the desk brushed back his damp, light pink hair, and he chuckled. 

“I’m awake,” Takahiro said, and he stood up straight. He grabbed the back of his office chair and pushed it toward Koutarou. “Do you mind? I’ll be as quick as possible.” Koutarou sighed and took a seat. Takahiro didn’t waste a moment, and he started at his foot, observing the burn they decided to give him.

“Why don’t you want Akaashi knowing you’re conscious?”

“I want to see Matsukawa first,” Takahiro explained, dragging his fingers down the side of his foot. “How much does that hurt?”

“Burns slightly?”

“Mhm.” Takahiro took note and moved on. The rest of his waist was filled with simple cuts. Takahiro could only guess they were given to him when they got too angry from Koutarou not saying anything and took their anger out on him. 

“But you’re talking to me.”

“For medical purposes.” There were deep cuts on his chest, and he moved on from those. They were pretty self-explanatory, and Akinori treated them nicely. The same cuts on his were on his arms, so Takahiro moved up. 

“Have you been feeling dizzy?” Koutarou shook his head. “Tired?” 

Koutarou shrugged. “I’ve only been awake for a few hours,” he said.

“Really?” Koutarou nodded again. “How about numb?”

“My foot but that’s normal? I was burned.” Takahiro bit his lip. “Is it?”

Takahiro sighed. “Yeah, I just can’t get into the medical ward without alerting Konoha that I’m awake, so you’ll either have to get it yourself or wait until I can get it for you. Other than some specific things I want to give you, Konoha did what I would've done. Smart doc.” He slapped Koutarou on the back. “Head on back before Akaashi comes to hunt you down. Don’t tell him about me.”

Koutarou nodded and stood. “Thanks,” he said, and Koutarou left the room.

* * *

Issei was careful while walking through the woods. He didn’t know these playing grounds as well as Morisuke did, and he knew the disadvantage that gave him. A part of him wished Hajime would team up so they would both take Morisuke out, but he knew Hajime wouldn’t be dumb enough to take that offer. If they did that and successfully took out Morisuke, they’d have to go one-on-one, and the winner would be a dead giveaway. Issei never lost a fight. He wasn’t sure how he wanted to move forward. If he found an open space, Hajime could easily snipe him. Meanwhile, if he stayed in tree-heavy areas, there could be traps or bombs hidden well. 

Issei froze and turned around, squinting into the woods. It was starting to get dark, and if they didn’t finish this soon, Morisuke would be sure to have the guaranteed win. They barely stood a chance in the light.

“Damn, I’m really starting to realize how threatening Yaku is,” Issei muttered under his breath. 

“Now you are?” Issei looked around, turning sharply each way. He couldn’t find where the voice was coming from but he was a hundred percent certain he heard it. “You won’t find me. Just give up.”

“Seriously?” Issei muttered.

“Seriously.”

Smoke shot up from the ground, surrounding everywhere around Issei. He started to sprint from it, but the smoke was too thick he didn’t see when Morisuke threw himself at Issei’s waist, tackling him to the ground. Issei landed on his back and felt something shoved in his mouth. There was a small tug on it but not enough to take it out. Morisuke straddled him, staring down at him with a smirk as he spun a grenade’s key around the tip of his finger.

“Now, if that were a real grenade, you’d be blown to bits if you took it out.”

Issei tried to say something but was muffled by the grenade. 

Morisuke sighed. “You admit you’re dead?” Issei nodded. Morisuke took the fake bomb out, tossing it to the side. “Good,” he said as he hopped up, holding out a hand to help him up. “What did you say?” Issei accepted his help and stood, brushing off his clothes.

“That’s a little psychotic, don’t you think?”

Morisuke shrugged. “It is what it is.” He pointed toward the woods. “Head straight for about a mile, and you should reach the building.”

“Got it,” Issei said with a sigh. “Thanks.”

  
  


_~~Issei and Tooru VS~~ Hajime ~~and Tetsurou~~ VS Morisuke. _

* * *

“‘Tsumu.”

“No.”

“‘Tsumu.”

“I said no.”

“Yer borin’.” Osamu let his head fall back and hit the fridge. He rolled his eyes and landed them on his brother who sat on the counter in the kitchen. “Just do it. Strikin' up a convo ain't that hard.”

“ _'Strikin' up a convo ain't that hard.'_ Fuck off.”

“So kind of ya to say.” Osamu put a hand to his heart. “Me, just tryna help a brother out.”

“Yer not my brother.”

“We’re twins ― identical twins, actually.”

“Shut up,” Atsumu snapped. He sighed, staring down at his feet as he swung them. “I ain’t talkin’ to him.”

“Obviously. You’ve only talked ― what? Once? At the party?”

“More than that. Shut yer hole.”

“Oh, then do tell me more.”

“I helped him when Bokuto ‘n Hinata got kidnapped.”

“We all did.”

“Not like that,” Atsumu defended. “He was on the phone with ‘em before they got taken.” Osamu raised an eyebrow, drumming his fingers on his arms while they crossed his chest. “I heard ‘im yell in’ from the hall so I checked it out.”

“Romantic.”

“I could smack yer teeth in.”

Osamu grinned. “Look, ‘Tsumu, take word from me,” he said while lifting his left hand, showing off his engagement ring. Atsumu rolled his eyes at it, but Osamu continued. “Sakusa ain’t the type to crack up his own conversation. We can both see that.” Osamu pushed off the fridge door and turned to open it. He pulled out a takeout case and set it on the counter, sliding it next to where Atsumu sat. “Ya hafta talk to him yerself.”

“I know that,” Atsumu muttered. He jumped from the cabinet, picking up the small container that held Atsumu’s meal ― courtesy of Osamu who promised him his favorite food for dinner. “Why do I come to ya fer advice?”

“‘Cause,” Osamu said with a smile as he slapped his back. “I'm a good brother.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Twitter @mattsuhana
> 
> Omg chapter 10. 1/4 of the way there


	11. Hanamaki's truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hanamaki finally explains to Matsukawa what goes on with him

**MAR. 9**

Hajime pulled on the strap of the sniper and tugged it over his head, throwing down the gun to a nearby bush. Considering there was only Morisuke left, sniping him probably wasn’t the best way to go. He had learned that Morisuke was smart. If Hajime were to wait in a tree, he’d be a sitting duck. So Hajime used the guns he had strapped to his belt, holding it in his hand up and ready as he walked through the clearing of the woods. It was risky, incredibly risky, being out in the open like he was. He knew that Morisuke had smoke grenades, but he wasn’t fully aware of everything that he had. The thought of tranquilizers crossed his mind, and Hajime scrunched up his shoulders, trying to push up the collar of his black turtle neck to fully cover his skin.

He heard a rustle in the trees and turned with his gun. “Yaku?” He called out. “Come on.” Was Hajime a little scared? Maybe. He wasn’t sure what Morisuke was capable of but he was good enough to take out Issei, and that scared the shit out of him. They left him out in their rescue mission? Hajime would forever question why.

Morisuke stepped out, hands on his hips as he stood a few feet from Hajime. He turned his head at him, a smirk tugging at his lips. The curl at his lips gave Hajime the shivers. “Watch out,” Morisuke said, grabbing something from his waist. Hajime realized it was another smoke grenade, and Morisuke tossed it in front of him. 

At first, Hajime thought that was kind of stupid. If he saw where the grenade was thrown, Hajime could run from it. Though when he took a step back and felt a rope wrap around his ankle, his feet being ripped from the ground; his body being picked up and hung upside down, Hajime realized that blinding him wasn’t his goal at all. He wanted to trap him.

Hajime had dropped his gun, and the blood had begun to rush to his head as he looked at Morisuke, who now looked like he was upside down, step up to him. “Sneaky bastard,” Hajime cursed.

“It’s an old trick you fell for,” Morisuke replied while he picked up Hajime’s dropped gun. Considering both of their short heights, Morisuke still had to look up to Hajime, even while he was dangled from a tree. “Not my fault.”

“Old trick? Tricking me to back up into a trap is an old trick?” 

Morisuke raised an eyebrow, lifting the gun and shooting Hajime in the stomach with the soft, fake bullet before dropping the gun back to the forest floor. “Yeah?” He grabbed a knife from his boot and cut Hajime down. Hajime caught himself with his hands, doing a handstand for a few seconds before his feet fell and planted on the ground. “Whatever. Pick up your sniper and let’s go back.”

Hajime sighed. “Yeah, yeah,” he muttered under his breath. He watched Morisuke start to head into the forest. “Crazy ass.”

* * *

Tooru muttered curses under his breath, peeling off the black turtle neck that hugged his back. It was damp with sweat, some dirt on the back of it, and he tossed it into the laundry bin that was placed in the corner of the locker room.

“Just because I kicked your ass again doesn’t mean you get to be all pouty, Oikawa,” Morisuke said with a grin as he passed him to his claimed locker.

“Shut up! I wasn’t being pouty,” he snapped in return. Tooru frowned, grabbing his towel from his locker and laid it on the bench. 

“Sure, and I’m six feet tall.”

“Oh, so you can make fun of your height but I can’t?”

“Yes.” 

Tooru rolled his eyes and continued getting changed.

  
  


Tetsurou swung the door to the locker room open and stepped in, scanning around, ignoring all the stares he got from everyone who stopped changing to look at him. He spotted Issei and decided to speak up then. “What?” Tetsurou asked. “Just observing the hot bods in here,” he said while stepping into the locker room, closing the door behind him.

“How’s your neck?” Morisuke asked.

“Aw, you concerned for me?”

“Nevermind. Die in a hole.”

Tetsurou smiled and walked up to Issei who had begun to ignore Tetsurou, though his attention returned to him when the bedhead put his hand on his bare shoulder.

Issei glanced over, slipping his arm from the tight, black sleeve. “What?” He asked with a half-lidded expression.

“So,” Tetsurou began to say, and he leaned closer, lowering his voice. “Don’t freak out.”

“What?” Issei’s tone was stronger now. He raised an eyebrow at Tetsurou. His first thought was that Tetsurou had done something stupid. “What did you do?”

“Why do you always assume I did something?”

“You’re Kuroo.”

“Fair.” Tetsurou gave a shrug. “But no. It’s Hanamaki.”

Issei’s shoulders fell. “What about him?”

“He’s awake, in his office, and wants to talk to you before anyone else.”

“What?” Issei’s voice came out a little too loud, and Tooru looked over at him.

“Mattsun, you alright?” Tooru asked.

“Fine,” Issei quickly answered. Tetsurou backed up when he reached into his locker and grabbed out his shirt. Issei was quick to pull it over his head, slam his locker shut, and rush to the door. “Gotta do something real quick.” Just like that, he left the room, leaving everyone but Tetsurou pretty damn curious what that was about because, _‘Hey, this is Matsukawa we’re talking about. The quiet one. So what the hell was that about?’_

“Damn, Kuroo,” Tooru mumbled. “What did you say to him?”

Tetsurou sighed. He thought back to how Takahiro told him not to tell anyone about him being awake, so he bit back his tongue. “Eh, you’ll learn soon enough.”

* * *

Takahiro scanned his eyes over the words on his screen, the large paragraphs typed up by Keiji. They were his recordings of how the mission went, and even though Takahiro was conscious during those times, his memory of it was nothing. The more he read into it, the more things started to come back to him. As he read, he pieced them together ― _‘Oh, yeah, I remember pulling that shit’._ The only missing bits were when Takahiro was alone. No one would ever know how Takahiro was really able to slip away from the people who Takahiro left with Atsumu ― that is, unless he remembered it himself.

Then he read Issei’s report. 

_‘That fucker really carried me.’_

Takahiro’s head snapped over when the door opened ― quite abruptly might he add. Issei opened the door, looking a little tired, tousled hair, t-shirt wasn’t even on properly, slightly out of breath.

“Your shirt is inside out,” Takahiro said, glancing back at the screen. He closed out of the tab, switching to his email. The chair creaked as he leaned back, putting his arms behind his head as he sighed. “Well, come on, idiot. I don’t want anyone else coming in or knowing I’m awake, for that matter.”

Issei was quiet as he stepped into the room, shutting the door behind him. He flipped his shirt the correct way. “So,” he began to say as he took a seat in the chair that sat in front of Takahiro’s desk, fixing the hem of his shirt. “When did you wake up?”

“A few hours ago.” Takahiro leaned his elbows on the desk. “I wanted to explain to you everything before Akaashi, Atsumu, and Oikawa lecture me.” 

Issei stared at him, staying silent, waiting for him to continue. Wanting to know what was wrong with Takahiro had been clawing at him for three to four days straight, even while being distracted during his little practice match. 

“Don’t give me the _Matsukawa Silence_.”

Issei laughed, remembering back to when he gave Takahiro the silent treatment on the walk home. “Sorry,” he chuckled. “Didn’t mean to.”

“Prick,” Takahiro said, but the curve of his lips and the tone of his voice told Issei he didn’t really mean it. He sighed, staring up at the ceiling. “Gah, where to start? Maybe start off with a little fact.” He spun in his chair a few times. “So, the thing is, I don’t sleep ― not much.” He stopped moving the chair when he faced Issei and sat up straight, pulling his feet in a crossed position underneath him. “I stay up for as long as humanly possible before either passing out or being knocked out.”

“‘Knocked out’?”

Takahiro nodded. “Yeah, Atsumu, Oikawa, and Akaashi end up knocking me out around nine or ten days.” He flicked his wrist in the air as if that were a normal thing to say. “Don’t worry. It’s been happening for, like three years now.”

“Why don’t you sleep?” Issei squinted.

“I’m getting to that. Keep your dick in your pants.” Issei held his hands up in defense and made a motion for Takahiro to continue. Takahiro sighed. “The thing is, being a _torturer_ isn’t all easy and shit,” he mumbled quietly. His joking tone was gone despite using it a millisecond ago, and his gaze was glued to the floor, averting eye contact. “I get these―” Takahiro inhaled sharply. “I get these nightmares. They’re bad, like _really_ bad. Waking up in a cold sweat, shaking, uneven breathing ― the whole nine.” He picked up a pen from his desk and spun it between his fingers. Issei could basically breathe in the anxiety. “And a few years ago, I met someone. They joined us, and I thought he was my best friend.” Takahiro finally looked at Issei.

“You don’t have to tell me, Hanamaki,” Issei mumbled, knowing that just from looking at Takahiro, that bringing whatever this was up wasn’t something he liked to do. Actually, it really seemed like he despised it. The way he would pause while explaining, breathe deeply, shudder his shoulders.

Takahiro shook his head. “Shut up.” He took another deep breath. “They weren’t who they really said they were. A spy.” He rolled his eyes, chuckling at himself a little. “I was an idiot ― I was an idiot because I _know_ what I need to be able to trust someone.” He threw his hand up and then ran his fingers through his hair, elbows placed on the table as he let his head hang and hit his chest. “I fucking _know_ what I need to see, and I didn’t.” Takahiro seemed like he wanted to explode and start yelling, but that wasn’t really his thing. He kept himself calm with a few deep breaths and lifted his head. “And I didn’t but I still trusted him because I _didn’t_ want to believe that I couldn’t,” he whispered, but it was enough for Issei to hear.

“What do you need to see?” Issei asked after a few moments of silence.

“My nightmares involve a couple of things,” Takahiro began. “It’s either the people I’ve tortured torturing me back, or me being alone because people find what I do _revolting_ ―” Takahiro shook his shoulders as a chill went up his spine. “Or it’s me torturing someone I love. It's that. That is how I know I can trust someone. Is if my conscience deep down wants to scare me by having me hurt them.” Takahiro let his head hit the back of his chair. He stared up at the blank ceiling once again. “And I didn’t see him in that yet I still trusted him. I was so stupid.”

Issei didn’t know what to say. He just waited for Takahiro to continue.

“So I tortured him for information,” Takahiro finally said. “And I accidentally killed him.” He sighed and sat up straight. “A two-week suspension.”

“Yeah, no shit,” Issei muttered. Takahiro chucked a pen at him. “Ow.”

“Shut up. It was painful not being able to do anything for two weeks, especially when working is my coping mechanism.” Takahiro sighed and fell back into his seat. “And _he_ ―” Takahiro spat when he brought him up, even if he wasn’t saying a name, “was able to stop the nightmares.”

“He―” Issei paused. “What?”

Takahiro sighed. “Well, we _thought_ it was _him_ that was able to stop the nightmares. He’d sleep next to me, I wouldn’t get them anymore.” He shrugged. “We thought he was magic or we were just soulmates or something.”

“Soulmates?” Issei cocked an eyebrow. “Were you two―?”

“God no. That would make this so heartbreaking.” Takahiro held a hand to his chest. “It’d truly be one of those disgusting romance movies about red-string soulmates.”

Issei nodded. “True.”

“No, it was just a thing we said ‘cause we thought _he_ was the reason why.” Takahiro flicked his wrist in the air. “Turned out he was injecting me with medicine while I slept. We figured out from the scar on my neck where he’d stick the needle.” He let out a deep sigh. “The medication was already out of my system when they went to test what it was so we never learned what he used.” He groaned. “We tested so many but couldn’t find it.”

“Well, obviously not everything.”

“Matsukawa?”

“Mhm?”

“Shut up.” Takahiro rolled his eyes, a small hint of a smile on his lips. “Whatever. That’s why I don’t sleep.”

"Why was he injecting you with medicine to help you if he wasn't really an ally?" Issei asked.

Takahiro shrugged. "We assume it was because he wanted us to trust him," he said in a sigh.

“So do you trust me then?” Issei asked, slightly concerned. He wanted Takahiro to trust him. For some reason, it felt like it was the only thing in the world that he did want.

“That’s actually what I wanted to tell you,” Takahiro muttered.

“I thought what you just told me was what you wanted to tell me?”

Takahiro shook his head. “No. No, I wanted to tell you that I _had_ that dream.” Issei raised an eyebrow to which Takahiro sighed. “I had a dream of me torturing the shit out of you. It wasn’t bad actually,” he quietly mumbled, falling back into his seat.

“Oh, thanks. Glad to see you torturing me doesn’t affect you.”

“Not that, dumbass.” Takahiro sighed. “Before it could get really bad, everything went black, and my dream changed to the normal dream.” He chewed his lip. "Which is strange that it revolted to normal. I wonder why that happened."

“What's a 'normal dream'?”

Takahiro shrugged. “Just being chased. I’m used to that one, and it doesn’t even scare me anymore.” He pursed his lips. “I can’t figure out why it turned back to normal, but I just know I can trust you.”

“Glad to know you can,” Issei muttered. “Does this mean you’re gonna sleep now?”

Takahiro shook his head. “No. Not until the nightmares stop and they haven’t yet.” 

“Right,” Issei muttered sadly. “Of course, they haven’t.”

* * *

Tobio watched Shouyou take another horrible shot with the sniper. He let out a sigh, and he stepped up to the other assassin, stopping him from firing the gun by placing his hand on the barrel and pushing it down. Shouyou looked over at him, letting the tip of the sniper rest on the small countertop in front of them that separated them from the targets. The amateur reached up, grabbing the headphones and pulling them down to rest around his neck.

“Huh?” Shouyou asked. 

“You’re stupid.”

“Kageyama, that’s rude!” Shouyou furrowed his eyebrows, pouting a small lip at Tobio. “It’s literally like my first time shooting a gun.”

“Doesn’t mean you’re not stupid.” Tobio properly put the gun back in Shouyou’s hands. “Listen,” Tobio began, “when you’re shooting, you’re hesitating. Shooting _any_ gun is not something to hesitate on. It messes up your shot.” Shouyou scrunched his face and stared at the gun as if he had to plan his next shot. “Follow through completely. Pull the trigger back all the way and let it snap back.” 

Tobio grabbed the headphones and lifted them back on Shouyou’s ears. He took his distance and held up a thumb to give Shouyou the go to shoot.

Shouyou took a deep breath. It was probably louder than he wanted it to be, but he just didn't know it was loud since he couldn’t hear himself. He closed one eye, staring through the scope of the gun, and stuck a tongue out as if it could help him concentrate. His finger pressed on the trigger lightly, not pressing down fully to take a shot. Though Shouyou then fought back on that decision. He let out a breath, let go of the grip he had before, and then quickly went through the action in one swift motion.

The bullet hit the second ring to the inside.

Shouyou’s eyes lit up, and he dropped the gun, the weight of it slouching down his shoulders as it hung on the strap. He pulled the headphones from his ears and pointed a finger at the target. “Kageyama, did you see that!?”

Tobio smiled. “Yeah, I did. Good job, idiot.” Tobio watched Shouyou gap at his own shot. He was pretty impressed with himself, and Tobio couldn’t help but chuckle at how amusing it was to see. Shouyou was so proud of something that Tobio could do in his sleep.

* * *

“Oikawa.”

Tooru looked up from leaning into his locker in the locker room, making eye contact with the green eyes before letting his head lean back down as he ruffled his hair with a towel. “Iwa,” he replied. He stood up straight, letting the towel rest on the top of his head as if that helped dry his hair. Hajime leaned his side on the lockers, staring at Tooru which made the taller one feel self-conscious. That in itself was weird. Tooru never felt self-conscious, but for some reason, when Hajime had his eyes on him like this, he couldn’t help but feel like maybe he should cover his bare chest.

“How long have you been working here?” Hajime asked.

“Here?” Tooru reasked, and he chewed his lip, pulling the towel from off the top of his head and tossing it back in the laundry bin. He reached into his locker, pulling out his white t-shirt and trying to find the proper way to hold it so he could put it on. “Years.”

“How long?”

“Twelve.”

“Seriously?” Hajime asked. Tooru nodded. “Get changed and let’s go.”

“Go where?” Tooru cocked an eyebrow. 

“Coffee. Me and you.” Hajime leaned off the lockers and grabbed his duffle bag. “I’m curious.”

“About me?” Tooru slowly asked, and Hajime nodded. “Why?”

“Just am. Meet me out front?”

Tooru stood there for a bit looking at Hajime before he turned his attention back to his bag. He chewed his lip, staring down at the dirty clothes he stuffed in his own duffle. Slowly, he nodded. “Alright. Sure, yeah.”

* * *

Atsumu walked down the hallway, staring down at the papers in his hand. His teeth dragged along his lower lip, and he scratched the side of his face with his free hand. Something was off about the report on Tetsurou and Kiyoomi's part. They were fighting the entire time, everyone knew that; they stayed in the main rooms, and it seemed like the enemies came in waves from what they said, but something about it didn't sit right with Atsumu. 

Why did they come in waves? Why not all at once? Why did it seem like they were so unprepared? Why did it seem like they were so heavily unguarded? Did they want them to rescue them? There was just something about it that made Atsumu's stomach churn. So, of course, Atsumu wanted to be sure of his theory. He was hoping he was wrong, he was hoping that this wasn't all a trap, he was hoping they weren't set up or played. 

The twin walked to the offices and straight to his boss'. He didn’t even bother to knock on the door considering it was already open, though he did not expect to see Kiyoomi there, arms crossed, standing on the other side of the desk from Keishin. 

The older man looked over at Atsumu when he walked in ― as did Kiyoomi though he seemed less interested in Atsumu's sudden appearance. "Atsumu," Keishin said, leaning back in his chair. "What brings you here?"

Atsumu stepped into the room further. "I'm not interruptin', am I?"

Keishin shook his head. "Not really, not since I think I might use you for what we were talking about."

"Him?" Kiyoomi muttered under his breath. "Come on. Give me Akaashi or something." Atsumu was not a fan of how that sounded. What was wrong with Atsumu that Keiji was so much better at?

"Akaashi has the day off, plus I want him to focus on taking care of Bokuto," Keishin replied. He sat up in his seat and moved his hands on his keyboard. Lifting one hand from it, he waved a hand for Atsumu to approach his desk. Atsumu did, taking a step closer but keeping a respectable distance from Kiyoomi. He figured by the way Kiyoomi stood when he met him that Kiyoomi was not the public, physical, touchy-touchy person that people like Koutarou were. "Can I ask what you needed first before I have you do something?" 

Atsumu glanced down at the paper in his hand. _'If 'm workin' with Omi, I can just ask him personally what happened . . . It can wait.'_ He shook his head. "We can talk later," Atsumu said while folding the paper and stuffing it in his back pocket.

Keishin nodded. "Alright," he said. "Sakusa wants to get back into the field, or more so I asked and begged him to." Atsumu glanced over at Kiyoomi. He did seem like he wanted to go into the field, but he seemed a little anxious about it. Like there was something that he wasn't telling. What was it? Atsumu had been suspicious of something before. Actually, he was dying to know. "So obviously I want someone trained to work with him."

"Ya already got 'im a job?"

"Yup," Keishin said, and he handed Atsumu a few papers filled with information. "You're familiar with them as well." Atsumu turned the paper upright and stared down at it. He could feel Kiyoomi take a small step closer and slightly look over his shoulder. He was getting pretty close. Kiyoomi got closer than Atsumu thought his boundaries had gone. "You know them well, right, Atsumu?"

Atsumu swallowed hard. He knew them. Of course, he knew them. The person that Kiyoomi was assigned to _'take out'_ (Atsumu had always thought that was a nice way of saying kill) happened to be a part of the organization that Atsumu left to come here. Of course, he had to know exactly who it was.

"What'd he do?" Atsumu questioned quietly.

"Stole from us," Keishin said while picking up a pen and putting it in a cup on his desk that held all his other writing tools. "We don't stand for that." Atsumu nodded. "You're gonna be fine on this, I presume?"

"I got it, Keishin."

"Just checking. That's all. You leave in a few hours since Sakusa wanted to start as soon as possible ― if he had to start at all. I assume that's alright?" 

Atsumu nodded, and Keishin looked to Kiyoomi who also gave a slight nod in return. 

"Good." He lifted a hand and waved it. "Now get out. I have shit that I need to get done like figuring out what to do with Hanamaki when he wakes up and how long Bokuto's suspension is going to be due to his injuries." Atsumu said nothing more and headed for the hallway. 

  
  


His grip on the papers was a little hard as he began to make his way back to his own office, and it seemed like someone else had caught on. Fingers pinched around his wrist, and Atsumu shivered at the cold touch from them. It was strange how it sent a feeling through him despite it only being two fingers holding onto him for a quick few seconds.

"Huh?" Atsumu stopped in the hallway and turned to them, his head tilting a little in confusion seeing Kiyoomi pull his hand away and wipe it on the side of his pants. "Omi?"

"' _Omi'_?" Kiyoomi quickly shook his head. "Doesn't matter." He pointed to the paper still clutched tight in Atsumu's hands. "What's up with you?"

"Whaddya mean?"

"I mean it seems like there's something about this that you don't want to do."

"Somethin' 'bout this I don't wanna do? Omi, ya literally asked for someone other than me." Atsumu loosened his hold on the papers and let his arms fall to his sides. "'Xcuse me I'm not all that thrilled to do it considerin' it seems like ya don't even wanna work with me."

"That's not what I―" Kiyoomi took a deep breath followed by a sigh. "Not what I meant by that."

"What didja mean?" Atsumu asked with a slight teasing smirk. Kiyoomi stayed silent as if he was searching for some sort of excuse, and Atsumu was done giving him time. He waved a free hand and turned to leave again. "I get it, Omi. If ya want a new partner, ask Ukai. If not, I'll see ya out front in a few hours, 'kay?"

* * *

"So," Tetsurou began as he jumped on the bench that stood in front of the lockers where Morisuke's was. He leaned forward, using his tall body to be able to lean on the lockers dangerously. "Nice win there." 

Morisuke pulled a shirt over his head, glaring over at Tetsurou once his head was past the collar. He tugged it down and rolled his eyes, fixing the bottom of his shirt. "Whatever. It's not the first time I won against Oikawa and a bunch of other idiots."

"Seriously?" Tetsurou asked, a bit more curious in his tone of voice than he had hoped to come out. Morisuke nodded, stuffing his dirty clothes into a small plastic bag before shoving that into his duffle bag that sat on the bench next to Tetsurou. The bedhead jumped down from the seat, straddling it with his hands planted in front of him as he leaned over, looking down into Morisuke's bag. "How many times have you won before?"

"Against Oikawa or just in general?"

"Both," Tetsurou said with a shrug, still invading the shorter one's space.

Morisuke sighed, and he looked over to Tooru in the locker room. "Oikawa," he called out. The brunette looked up from his phone at him. He leaned against his locker, chewing on his lip while reading something when Morisuke called for his attention. "Where's the stat board?"

"Fuck the stat board."

"You're just mad because I'm still in first place even though I've been here for five years and you've been here for twelve."

"It's not even fair," Tooru huffed, slipping his phone in his back jean’s pocket. "Plus these stats only record the last five years. It's not like it's overall everything," he muttered. He moved to another locker in the corner, one that no one had touched while Tetsurou had been in there so he had no clue what it was for. There was a small file cabinet in there, and Tooru pulled out the top door, flipping through it until he found a folder that read _'stats'._ A clipboard was grabbed from the folder. Tooru stared at the paper on top. "What are you asking for?" He asked.

"For you to update it and tell me where we all stand," Morisuke said while zipping up his bag. There was a small, cocky smile on his face as he did. Tetsurou could only assume it had something to do with Tooru's pouting and _'it's not even fair'_ comment.

"One second," Tooru muttered, grabbing a pen from the locker and tallying things off. He took a deep sigh before reading off the statistics. "In the past five years, the rankings stand 'Yakkun, Makki, Akaashi, 'Tsumu, me."

"You're last?" Tetsurou laughed. "Fucking loser."

Tooru glared at him. "I had an injury and couldn't properly fight. Like I said, unfair." He rolled his eyes. "Yakkun now has ninety-three wins, Makki still has sixty-nine ― that fucking idiot refuses to win because he hit sixty-nine."

"Nice," Tetsurou commented.

"Akaashi still has fifty-seven, 'Tsumu still has fifty-five, and I still have thirty-three."

"How many matches is that you losing, Oikawa?" Tetsurou teased.

Tooru sighed. "Two hundred seventy-four," he quietly muttered. Tetsurou laughed, head flying back, hand clutching his stomach. "Shut up! What were your stats from your old agency?" Tooru started putting the stats away.

"I think it went Matsukawa, Bokuto, me, Iwaizumi, and then Hinata."

"Mattsun was first?" Tooru asked, his tone with a bit of confusion in it. He had never personally seen Issei fight. Tooru wasn't involved in the rescue mission aside from communicating from the building through earpieces. During their practice match, the only thing he saw Issei do was sprint away.

Tetsurou raised an eyebrow, an amused smirk crossing his lips. "I feel like you guys truly underestimate Matsukawa." He shrugged. "But to be fair," he turned his head to Morisuke, "I underestimated Yakkun." Morisuke just rolled his eyes and lifted his duffle's strap to sit on his shoulder. "I also underestimated Hanamaki. I mean, he's second place _and_ apparently can just choose whether or not to win or lose considering he's holding his ranking. Just how good is he?"

"Makki is―" Tooru took a deep breath. "Truly terrifying." Morisuke could do nothing but stand and nod. Tetsurou still seemed confused. He turned his head as if to ask for more information than just _'truly terrifying'._ "There was at one point," Tooru began, "where I thought he'd run away just to kill an entire group of people."

"I think we all thought that, Oikawa," Morisuke muttered. He sat on the bench next to Tetsurou, hands in his pockets as he stared at the floor. There was a somewhat sad look in his eyes. "I honestly thought he'd go, kill them, and then himself."

Tooru nodded in agreement. "Yeah, that's the only reason why Keishin didn't let him go." 

"What happened?" Tetsurou asked. The three of them in the locker room were quiet, nothing but the shaky breathing from thinking of the past from Tooru and Morisuke. That was until Tooru picked up his bag and finally decided to speak up.

"Long story short, Makki got really mad at someone, and it scared the fuck out of us. He's dangerous, a lot more dangerous than anyone could even think a person like him could be. Definitely don't underestimate him." Tooru gave a small wave and headed to the door. He now had to meet Hajime out front. "See ya, guys."

* * *

Takahiro pulled the hoodie over his head, staring in the mirror as he pushed the recognizable pink-light brown strands underneath the sweater. He turned to Issei and held his arms out. "So? How do I look? Hidden?" He asked.

Issei rolled his eyes. "I don't see why I have to help sneak you out of here."

"Because," Takahiro said as he grabbed his bag. He stuffed some papers in there, a laptop, tossed in a phone charger before zipping it up and tossing it on his back. "I'd rather deal with Akaashi, Oikawa, and Atsumu's angry bitching tomorrow." He slapped Issei on the back and pushed him toward the door. "Let's go, sexy skeleton."

  
  


They headed down the hallway, walking calmly while trying to seem most inconspicuous as possible. Takahiro let out a small gasp at seeing someone down the hallway, and he ducked behind Issei, using the other’s tall frame to hide him from whoever was in the hallway.

"Hanamaki, it's more suspicious if you're hiding than if you're normally walking."

"Shut up. What if he recognizes me?"

Issei rolled his eyes. "I thought you were confident about your outfit?"

"Yeah, but have you ever seen a movie where the main character is put in the hospital? He tries to sneak out and BAM!" Takahiro did a somewhat mix of jazz hands and a pretend explosion with his hands. "The doctor is the only one who is able to recognize him and he's sent back to his room." He peered behind Issei's arm and looked down the hallway at Akinori as he talked with Osamu. "Konoha would totally be able to figure out it's me. I feel like he's definitely that type of guy. He's obviously really smart." Issei let out a sigh. He reached behind him, grabbing Takahiro's arm. "Oi, Matsukawa―"

"Sh." He began his way toward the two, and as he got closer, he put his hand to Takahiro's back. "I'll distract him. Just head to the car." He pushed Takahiro toward the exit. "Hey, Konoha," Issei called out and Takahiro was on his way to slip out the door. Akinori looked toward Issei. Issei stood in front of the twin and doctor and gave them a small wave. "I wanted to ask about Hanamaki,” he said.

"I should get goin'," Osamu said. "Leave ya two to talk or whateva." He gave a smile and headed down the hallway. "I hafta get this to 'Tsumu before he leaves anyhow." He lifted a small, paper bag. "See ya, Doc."

Akinori nodded and waved off to Osamu. He turned to Issei and stuffed his hands in his pockets, rocking on his back heels. "What do you need to talk about?"

"So he gets nightmares?"

Akinori raised an eyebrow. "How the hell did you figure that out?"

"You left me alone in the room with the clipboard." Issei shrugged.

"That's illegal."

"Yeah, but what's gonna happen to me? I get suspended for a week for reading someone's medical records?"

"You'd get fired, actually," Akinori deadpanned.

"But are you gonna tell on me?" Issei asked with a cocky grin. He was only this confident because he did, in fact, not read Takahiro's medical records.

Akinori sighed. "No, but you're an idiot, and I only expected it from you."

Ouch. Issei was a bit hurt by that considering he was lying.

"You sure you can't find a medication to block out the nightmares?" Issei asked.

"Well," Akinori sighed, "I actually gave him something that hasn't been tried before a few hours ago and gave Akaashi a bottle of it." Akinori shrugged. "So if that works, it works. Otherwise, I'd like to try other things." He chewed his lip. "We won't know if it worked until he wakes up."

Issei nodded. "Alright. Thanks, Konoha." He started to back up toward the exit he had pushed Takahiro to. "See you."

"Matsukawa." Issei stopped at the door and looked back at Akinori. "Sneak Hanamaki around like that and try to distract me again and I'll kill you. You have until this morning until I have to report him _'missing'_."

Issei scoffed, a small hint of a laugh escaping his lips. Of course, Akinori knew. "Got it."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Twitter @mattsuhana
> 
> I feel like the excuse I gave Hanamaki is so cliché and predictable but it's honestly such a small part of the fic that I do not care. Like this fic is so long that I don't care to put in any effort to come up with something else because I mean it works or whatever and that's adequate for me <3 BUT WHATEVER moving on to some Miya twin things. Everyone really has a messed up past in this. I did not go easy on anyone really


	12. Atsumu's kill

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something about the Miya twins

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW // fucked up families?? Lots of death talk, mention of divorce, a minor character kill, blood
> 
> I DIDN'T UPDATE LAST FRIDAY BECAUSE IT WAS CHRISTMAS SORRY. I'll do an update Wednesday to make up for the Friday I missed. Also this chapter is long so I hope that makes up for it as well.

**MAR. 9**

Of course, the day that Atsumu had asked Osamu to make him food again was also the day that Atsumu had some stupid ass job that he had to go out on. That meant that Atsumu was leaving earlier than Osamu had planned so the chef had rushed in the kitchen to finish just so he could bring it to Atsumu on time. 

He had run into Akinori in the hallway and talked to him about Takahiro's condition a bit ― stable yet still unconscious. Good for him, honestly. That kid needed sleep more than Sleeping Beauty. Issei had walked up asking about Takahiro, so Osamu excused himself from the conversation and began to continue his hunt to Atsumu's office before the idiot had the chance to leave.

  
  


He turned at the corner of the office and literally and physically ran into someone. Osamu was pushed only the slightest bit, though the person who ran into him was nearly nothing compared to him. They started to fall back, but he was able to reach out in time, grabbing the arm of the person he ran into to stop them from crashing to the floor.

"Sorry," the other said. Hearing the voice, Osamu loosened his grip. “Oh, Osamu.”

“Hitoka, sorry. Are ya alright?” The chef asked.

“Yeah,” Hitoka laughed. Osamu let go of her wrist, his hand slipping down to hold her hand. His hand held up hers, fingers pinching onto the ring that was wrapped around her finger. 

"What're ya doin' over here?" Osamu asked, staring down at the engagement ring with a smile. He often caught himself staring at his own ring, his mind only running with the thought of, _‘Damn, ‘m really gonna marry her.’_

“I was looking for you.” She turned her head in question. "What about you? This isn't your domain,” she laughed. “I didn’t expect to literally run into you either, I expected to find you in the kitchen.”

"'Tsumu." Osamu smiled and lifted the bag in his hand. "Food."

“Did you bring me anything?”

“Mhm,” Osamu hummed in thought as he let his fingers slip between hers. He started to walk down the hallway, guiding his fiancé with him as he pretended he needed to think about what he was going to do next. Osamu reached over placing a kiss on her cheek. “That?”

Hitoka giggled. “Perfect, and I’m sure Atsumu is gonna love you for bringing him food.”

“‘Tsumu is a dickhead, but at least he has good taste in food.”

"I dunno what ya guys are talkin' about but fuck ya both." The couple stopped and turned, looking at Atsumu who stood behind them with his arms crossed. "Dickheads," Atsumu muttered.

"Why ya out walkin'? I thought ya were gettin' ready," Osamu asked.

Atsumu sighed, holding up some papers as he walked past them to his office. They followed him, genuinely curious about what Atsumu was doing out and about. "Printin' papers," the older twin answered with an irritated tone.

"Whatever." Osamu dropped the bag on his desk. "There ya go, shithead."

Atsumu looked between his brother and the bag a few times before he sighed. "Thanks,” he said, grabbing the bag and placing it on his desk. He glanced back at the papers in his other hand before he handed them to his twin. "Read." Osamu raised an eyebrow but he read it. It was the information papers on what he was doing -- the job and who the job was. Reading over it, everything about it just made Osamu's knees weak.

"Yer kiddin'," Osamu muttered under his breath. Hitoka shuffled closer, an arm wrapping around Osamu’s as she leaned over to read the paper with him. "Yer gonna watch him do that?" He worded it vaguely despite the other two in the room understanding the means of the job. Something about saying it straight out made his stomach churn.

Osamu was never a fan of killing at all, and Atsumu knew that. He could never picture himself witnessing someone kill someone; he couldn't picture himself witnessing someone kill someone that he _knew_ ― someone that he before had a close bond with. Osamu didn't do that anymore. How would Atsumu be okay after that? Would he be? Osamu, being his twin, was usually able to tell. Right now though? With this job explanation in his hand, not even Osamu knew if Atsumu would be okay afterward. Neither of them would know until it happened. 

Hitoka let out a small squeak having finished reading, and she drew herself closer to Osamu, burying herself in her fiancé’s comfort. She decided to stay quiet, let the two twins discuss the job as brothers before she talked to Osamu about how he felt after. Maybe she’d make him a meal, which she would probably burn and Osamu would take over, but it was the thought that counted.

"I guess," Atsumu said with a shrug. "That's unless Omi finds someone else to go on the job with."

"Why would he?"

"Didn't seem like he wanted to go with me."

"Makes sense. Yer annoyin'." Atsumu glared at him. "Kiddin'. Kinda." Osamu chuckled when his twin had rolled his eyes. Atsumu was done with the arguing as he packed up his duffle bag.

"Hitoka, good thing yer here," Atsumu said instead, completely ignoring Osamu at this point. "I need to get into the armory."

"Alright," Hitoka said with a sigh. "Let's go now then. I wanted to head home." 

“Well, no then,” Osamu interrupted. “We head home,” he said while snatching the armory keys from Hitoka and tossed them at his brother. “Ya just lock up fer her and we’ll get the keys in the mornin’.”

Atsumu frowned, hating having to do all the check out stuff with the weapons on his own. He was slow with the process, and he was even slower about it when he was alone. Hitoka was always so quick, checking out five items for a person before Atsumu could even finish one. “Fine,” Atsumu mumbled. “I’ll get my own shit then.”

* * *

Hitoka and Osamu made their way to the kitchen. She quietly laughed to herself thinking of the relationship between the twins. Miya one VS Miya two was always pretty amusing to her.

"At least ya find it funny," Osamu muttered under his breath. He opened the door to the kitchen, flicking on the lights as he made his way in. "Just gimme a sec, Darlin’. I gotta grab my stuff."

Hitoka nodded and let Osamu disappear into the back office room of the kitchen. She looked around, taking in a deep breath. It was obvious Osamu had just cooked whatever he had made for Atsumu before he left the kitchen to give it to him, the smell of the food still lingering in the air, the dishes on the drying rack dripping with water. The large knife sitting in the rack made Hitoka chuckle. Someone who was terrified of the armory but was completely fine with handling knives like that? Ironic.

Osamu came out from the backroom and closed the door behind him. "Ready?" He asked, and Hitoka looked over, giving a nod.

"Yup!" She said with a smile.

"Let's get."

* * *

Atsumu was half nervous that Kiyoomi would show up with another person like Keiji, but when he saw Keiji leaving the building alone, it made him feel a bit better. He ended up waiting out there with the assassin. Then Atsumu had another thought. Kiyoomi could damn well walk out with another person like Issei or someone.

"You have a job with Sakusa?" Keiji asked.

"Yup," Atsumu replied. He sighed, head leaning back to stare up at the sky. "Boss wanted me to go with him. I was just on my way to tell him somethin' too."

"Tell him what?" Keiji asked. Atsumu sighed, lifting his leg up a little so he could pull out the paper that was still in his back pocket. He unfolded the report typed up by Kiyoomi and Issei. "Are those reports?"

"Yah," Atsumu quietly muttered. "Somethin' 'bout that mission seemed off to me. Don'tcha think?"

"In what way? We got everyone back."

"Yah, without a single struggle."

Keiji chewed his lip. "I guess that is true." He sighed. "Anyway, what is this job you have?" Atsumu reached back to his pocket once again and handed Keiji another piece of paper. His eyes scanned it quickly until he let out a small gasp. "Wait, for real?" 

Atsumu nodded.

"Are you sure you're okay with doing this, Atsumu?"

"What other choice do I have?" Atsumu let his shoulders drop. He gave a small pout. "Ain't gonna tell Boss _'nah'._ "

"You could?"

"Not goin’ to," Atsumu said sternly. There was a part of him deep down that really wanted to take this job.

Keiji sighed. "Alright." As he handed Atsumu back his paper, Koutarou came out the door. Keiji stood, giving a small yawn before throwing Atsumu a wave as Koutarou made his way over on crutches. "See you later, Atsumu. Take care."

"'Course, 'Kaashi." 

Keiji stood and stretched his arms high above his head, his shirt lifting ever so slightly to reveal a small sliver of skin above his jeans. He let out a groan as he let his hands fall to his side as Koutarou stopped in front of them. He was quiet which was so oddly unlike him. It was concerning, but Atsumu didn't comment on it. The twin knew Keiji picked up on it too when he gave Koutarou this concerning look, an eyebrow lifting ever so slightly. "Let's go," Keiji said instead. "See you tomorrow, Atsumu." 

Atsumu nodded and watched them walk off.

  
  


It was a few torturing minutes of Atsumu sitting there. Kiyoomi probably already left out the back without him or something. He seemed to only be able to tolerate Issei and Hajime. Why would he put up with Atsumu? He was annoying, persistent, a pain in the ass. 

You would not know the lifting feeling in Atsumu's stomach when he looked up as the doors opened and saw one Sakusa Kiyoomi dressed in all black walk out the front door. He had a strap sitting over a black turtleneck across his chest that held weapons with a jacket on top. It made Atsumu feel a little underprepared and intimidated. He wore all black as Kiyoomi did though he had one machete on his belt and a small, hidden dagger in his shoe. To be fair, it wasn't really Atsumu's job. He was just there for backup if Kiyoomi needed it. The twin gave himself a pass. 

He stood from the bench and placed his hands on his hips as Kiyoomi walked over. The mysophobe stopped and stood in front of him. "Hot," Atsumu commented.

"Don't make me regret this."

"Aw, so harsh." He turned, and when his back was to Kiyoomi, he bit his lip. "Let's go, Omi."

Really hot.

* * *

Keiji walked close behind Koutarou as they made their way to his car. He opened the door for him, held onto his hand as he got into the passenger seat, closed the door for him, threw the crutches in the back. Koutarou felt like he was getting prime service.

"Akaashi, this is too much," Koutarou said once Keiji got into the driver seat and turned the key in the ignition. 

"Huh?" Keiji hummed. "What do you mean?"

"All this _'taking care of me'_ business. I'm fine! You should enjoy your day off."

"Bokuto, if I didn't have to take care of you, I wouldn't have a day off."

Koutarou shrugged. "Eh, I mean, I guess that's true."

"It is true," Keiji deadpanned.

"Okay, so, it is true." Koutarou ran his hands along the dashboard. "But that doesn't mean that any of this is necessary."

"Well, if you want to get in a fight about it, I'm pretty sure I'd win."

Koutarou frowned, eyes squinting ahead as he watched the road in front of him despite not being the one driving. "I can still fight."

"You can't even walk."

"I get there." Keiji rolled his eyes, biting back a small smile. "I do!" Koutarou sat up in his seat a little and looked over at Keiji. "If you asked me to take out two guys right now, I could do it."

"Really?"

"Yeah! Are you doubting me, Akaashi?" Keiji glanced over at Koutarou real quick, glancing at his bandaged up arms. He looked back to the road and tapped the steering wheel. All he could think about were the bandages that were hidden. The wrapped wounds around his whole body and his burned up feet.

"I'd give you the win over a baby," Keiji finally replied.

Koutarou pouted. "Not even a toddler?"

"Toddlers have this crazy strength." Keiji chuckled and looked over at Koutarou. He was slumped down in his seat, arms crossed, bottom lip pouted out. It seemed like he was the toddler. "Start thinking about what you want for dinner." 

Koutarou was silent for a bit before a soft, muttered _'okay'_ could be heard under his breath. Keiji nodded, a soft smile on his face. Koutarou was too easy.

* * *

Tooru slipped on his white jacket and sighed. He looked over his desk to see if he was forgetting anything. His bag sat open on his chair, and he reached to the wall to pull out his iPhone charger. He stuffed that in his bag along with a folder of papers. 

_'Meet me out front at six.'_ Those words rang through his ears. Hajime had seemed so interested in his work before he became just a _'behind the scenes'_ guy three and a half years ago. Ever since he was kneecapped, he had been semi-afraid to return out into the field, but this sudden burst of new people intrigued him to get into it once again. The issue was, he was lucky to even be able to walk again after, Tooru only being left with a slight limp that was hard to notice unless you really paid attention to it. Sometimes it ached, but he could usually hide it in his facial expression when it did.

Tooru scoffed at the memory, and he zipped up his bag, setting it on his shoulder before snatching his keys up from his desk. He closed the door behind him before making his way out to the front. Five fifty-seven PM.

It was kind of chilly outside. Thankfully, Tooru grabbed his jacket. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and looked around, scanning the front of the building for Hajime. A white car slowly pulled up, the windows tinted dark, though a second after, the windows rolled down. Tooru could see inside, and he leaned down a little, looking in at the driver.

"Nice car, Iwa."

"Thanks," Hajime replied. Are you gonna get in?" 

Tooru nodded and opened the door, hoping in the front seat or as Hajime rolled up the window. He set his bag on the floor between his legs and sighed. Once Tooru had shut the door, Hajime turned on the heat, and the warmth started to spread throughout the car. "Warm," Tooru mumbled.

Hajime chuckled. "Cold? How long were you standing out there for?"

Tooru shrugged. "Not that long, I just got out there." Hajime pulled out of the parking lot, turning the other direction that Tooru usually came from. "Where are we going?"

"Small coffee shop I know of."

"Fancy." Tooru was nervous as all hell despite really not seeming that way. He wasn’t sure why Hajime took a sudden interest in him. Someone put him up to this. "Is it popular?" Tooru asked instead.

"You don't trust me?" Hajime asked, a small smile on his face. Tooru really thought he looked good with that, the small curve at the corner of his lips. He glanced over at Tooru, and that sent some spark through the taller one. Something about that look in his eyes ― fuck green eyes. Green eyes were so gorgeous. "You'll see."

  
  


It really was a beautiful cafe shop if Tooru was being completely honest. He wasn't sure how he didn't run into it or gone there before, especially since one of his best friends was literally a coffee addict. Takahiro would drag him around places sometimes just to try out coffee simply because the man wanted coffee.

The aesthetic of the place was really in Tooru's favor, and the vibe of the cafe definitely made Tooru feel more at home. With white walls, the trimming was a light blue. The windows were large and beautiful, clean with a small glisten to them. There were a lot of plants that were clearly well-watered and taken care of, the bright green leaves giving Tooru a comforting feeling. The place smelled of a sweet coffee, and it was enough to make Tooru fine with spending hours there.

They settled in a booth in the corner, sitting across from each other. The booths weren't small either; Tooru didn't have to worry about bunking his knees with Hajime's, unlike the other cafe shops he and Takahiro went to where they'd be crammed into a booth, knees rubbing against each other, fingers tugging at the collars of their shirts to stop the shirts from sticking to their bodies from sweat. Instead, the cafe shop was large and spacious with a wonderful air cooling system.

"So," Hajime began to say. He leaned his elbows on the table, his facial expression showing the same interest in Tooru as it did back in the locker room. "Let's get this Hanamaki thing over with, then we can talk about you."

* * *

It was fine for the beginning part of it; the drive to where they had to go wasn't bad. The car ride was silent aside from Atsumu's annoying humming he did to keep himself calm from thinking about what he actually was about to be forced to witness. Atsumu had an opportunity to turn down the job and send someone else, but he just didn't. He didn’t know why he didn’t even though he knew he should have. The twin had already had a lot of scarring in his life from both his past and his present ― jobs to this day still kind of made him shaky about doing things, but he would never tell anyone that. 

He wondered if Kiyoomi could see how much he didn't want to do this job, and he was pretty sure the mysophobe did. Kiyoomi seemed like the type of person who would tell Atsumu to shut the fuck up since he was humming, but with Atsumu fidgeting around, he was pretty sure Kiyoomi let him continue because he could see it calmed him down.

Kiyoomi drove, of course, with Atsumu in the front seat. He continued to hum while staring out of the window, and he was starting to get flashbacks in the back of his mind that poked at him from his past. This was a road he had gone on a lot, which was kind of concerning to him. Atsumu never checked where they had to go but seeing that the area was familiar scared him a bit. 

"Hey," Atsumu began, and he took a glance over at Kiyoomi. He knew he wouldn't look back at him, yet he still looked over, hoping for maybe a look in his eyes that would calm him down a bit. What was Atsumu thinking? He'd get that from Kiyoomi? Sure. "Where we headin'?" 

"Apparently, the guy hangs out at some local bar a lot."

Atsumu knew that. There had been no point in asking. He was hoping it wasn't _that_ bar.

"What's your history with this guy or their organization anyway?"

Atsumu sighed. He should've seen that question coming. "It's a long story," he said.

"Then you better start now because I'm not dragging you into this without knowing how much shit I could be bringing back up for you."

"It's just―" Atsumu paused, wondering how he should word it. He didn't want to tell Kiyoomi too much. Why should he? "I used to work with 'em. 'Samu ‘n I both did. We trusted 'em." He chewed his lip and looked back out of the window remembering it again. It made him want to grind his teeth together, but he was sure Kiyoomi wouldn't like that one bit. "Then we learned somethin’ ‘bout ‘em. Somethin’ they did, somethin’ unforgivable. So we left, and Ukai found us searchin’ fer a job opportunity."

"What did he do?" Kiyoomi looked over at him. He took note of the look on Atsumu's face. "Nevermind. I'm intruding."

Atsumu slowly shook his head. "Yer fine," he muttered quietly. "I can do it. Don't worry 'bout me."

"Okay," Kiyoomi replied. His voice didn't seem too convinced, though it wasn't like they were going to turn back now.

* * *

Tetsurou followed Morisuke out of the locker room.

"Stop being a lost puppy."

"I wanna hang out." 

Morisuke sighed, and he stopped walking. He turned to look at Tetsurou, who stopped when Morisuke did, and he stared at him. "Why?" He asked.

Tetsurou shrugged. "Why not? You seem like you have shit that you're hiding that you're not telling and I, personally, am interested." Tetsurou put an arm around Morisuke's shoulder, overexaggerating how far he had to bend down to do so, and began walking down the hallway again. "Like, what got you into doing what you do? You seem pretty good at fighting so why do you only do traps and shit? What got you into being an assassin?"

Morisuke groaned. "What got _you_ into being an assassin?"

"Bokuto did," he answered quickly. "Your turn."

"Ukai did."

"What did he do?" Tetsurou took his arm off Morisuke and walked like a normal person. Morisuke was glad for the literal weight off his shoulder considering his other shoulder was lugging his bag with him.

"I was studying in college, and he made me an offer."

"What kind of offer?"

Morisuke sighed. "I'd get full pay as if I did finish college if I came and worked for him."

"Seriously?" 

Morisuke nodded.

"That's awesome."

"Whatever." Morisuke rolled his eyes. "How did Bokuto get you into being an assassin?" He asked.

"Well, just being friends with him made me a target." Tetsurou shrugged as if it wasn't a big deal. "I was kind of dragged into it after a year of him officially being an assassin."

"So, how long have you been working as an assassin?" Morisuke raised an eyebrow.

"Mhm." Tetsurou put a hand to his chin. "Since I was eighteen so about," he chewed his lip, "six years. You?"

"Uaki picked me up a year into college, I was nineteen."

"So five years." Morisuke nodded. "I got a year of experience more than you," Tetsurou said with a cocky grin.

"And I still kicked your ass."

"I deserved that," Tetsurou muttered. Morisuke scoffed, turning his head so he could stop the small smile on his face. He stopped at his office door. "Seriously though," Tetsurou said while Morisuke stuck his key in the door handle and turned it. "We should hang out."

"I'll think about it."

"Really?" Tetsurou asked.

"Sure,” Morisuke rolled his eyes, “whatever, go away now."

"Sweet." Tetsurou started to head down the hallway. "Bye, Yakkun."

Morisuke sighed. "Bye."

* * *

Shouyou was careful with the sniper as he pulled apart the pieces for it. There was so much to it, and for what? Why couldn't there just be a big case for the size when it was all put together? What was the point of taking apart the whole gun? He hated all the unnecessary steps, and he groaned out loud when he had to do it.

"Idiot, that's not where that goes."

"Well, how am I supposed to know?!" Shouyou held up the part and sighed, putting his arms down and looking at all the empty spots where he could possibly put the correct piece. "Here?" He softly asked, and Tobio nodded. "It's complicated, okay?"

"It's not complicated, you're just stupid."

"That's mean."

"I know."

"This is my first time working with guns."

"I know."

Shouyou sighed. "So you can't be easy on me?"

"No." Shouyou wanted to jump Tobio right then and there. Tackle him to the ground, pin him in a headlock, maybe make him say 'uncle' for him to let go of him. Yeah, that sounded good. If only Shouyou was capable of doing that. He wasn't the best when it came to fighting, and he was probably the worst out of all of them ― new and old members of the agency included. It wasn't his favorite thing to do, and he perfected talking his way out of things. Why was there a need to learn how to fight? He at least had the basics down, that should be enough. 

"Listen, if you want to get better, I'm gonna be hard on you," Tobio said. He stood at the counter, running a dirty-looking rag down the side of the unattached barrel. 

"I know," Shouyou muttered. "I know, I'm just not used to it."

"Did they baby you back at your old agency?" Shouyou was not a fan of how Tobio worded that. He gave out an exasperated huff, slapping a hand on his thigh with a glare thrown toward Tobio. The pro gunman wasn't looking though, and Shouyou returned to putting away his borrowed weapon.

"A little, in a way," Shouyou admitted. "Bokuto has always been nice to me, we're a good team; Kuroo and I work well together too but we're not put as a team often; Sakusa was fun to work with before he stopped working in the field."

"Why'd he stop?" It raised Tobio's curiosity a little. Kiyoomi was a pretty private person. 

Shouyou paused while closing the gun case, and slowly, he softly shut it, snapping the locks into place as he stood up with it. He lifted the silver, metal box, placing it on the counter, staring blankly ahead of him. "Sakusa got caught up in something. It made him not want to go out again," Shouyou said, and Tobio raised an eyebrow when he looked over at him. "You'd have to ask Sakusa. It's not my place to explain, you know?" Tobio nodded, understanding, yet still boiling with curiosity. "Iwaizumi is like the overlooker of all of us," Shouyou continued. He shrugged, "like, he really stopped Bokuto and Kuroo from doing stupid shit so many times in the past." Tobio nodded again. He could imagine it. "Matsukawa helped me out if anything. He taught me basic fighting." Shouyou turned his head at Tobio. "How'd you get into it?"

"Being an assassin?" 

Shouyou nodded. 

"At first, it was a hobby with my grandpa," Tobio began. He returned to cleaning the gun pieces as he talked, his movements slowed as he reminisced of the past. "Up until I was twelve. That was until I was found out and properly trained for two years until I was passed over to Ukai."

"Twelve?"

"Yeah, what about you?"

"Since I was nineteen."

Tobio chuckled. "I have way more experience than you."

"Whatever," Shouyou muttered. "I'll catch up."

Tobio cracked a smile. "Can't wait."

* * *

"So, Hanamaki really isn't all he seems?" 

Tooru nodded, sipping on his drink. He had relaxed a long time ago in the conversation, and he went through explaining a lot of Takahiro's history. Part of him felt guilty. It was Takahiro's life he just explained. He should get to decide who knows what and when. Though when Tooru unwinded, letting everything off his chest, it made him feel ten thousand percent better. He felt like quitting his job. That's how good he felt. 

"What about you?" Hajime asked suddenly.

"Me?"

"How'd you get into everything?" Hajime asked.

Tooru chewed his lip, and he set down his glass. He wrapped his fingers around it, tapping on the side of the cup. "Well, it's funny how Keishin found me, actually." Hajime just raised an eyebrow, waiting in silence for Tooru to continue. Tooru sighed. "I tried to pickpocket him when I was a kid."

"When you were a kid?" Hajime laughed. "How long have you known Keishin for?"

"Twelve years. The whole twelve years I've worked."

"For real?" 

Tooru nodded. "Yup. I was an orphan, but I was also a little shithead who pickpocketed people on the street." Tooru sighed and chuckled to himself a little. "I guess I targeted the wrong person ― or the right person." He set his elbow on the table and lifted the glass to his lips so he could find the straw with his mouth. "Keishin saw potential and adopted me. In a way, he's my dad, but he always told me not to think of it that way."

"That's kind of harsh?" Hajime questioned.

"Nah," Tooru said. "I told him I didn't want a father figure. Bad history with them being an orphan and all, so I never wanted another one."

"Understandable." 

"You?" Tooru asked. "What got you into it?"

Hajime scoffed. "Military dad."

"Really?" Tooru leaned forward, engaging more physically to show he was interested. He really was interested. 

"He got me a job when I was pretty young, like sixteen." Hajime stared down at his cup. "I worked my way through, I guess," he shrugged.

"Do you regret it?" Tooru asked, and Hajime seemed thrown off by that as if he had to think. Which was perfectly reasonable for someone in his situation. Hajime could've gone an entirely different route, but Tooru knew his own answer right away. "I don't," Tooru said when he noticed Hajime’s hesitation to answer the question. "Without Keishin, I'd still be a lost orphan, probably. It wasn't a well-known orphanage, and more kids were dropped off than picked up. He gave me a purpose." Tooru looked at Hajime, and then he looked away, pursing his lips together. "Sorry, that was cheesy."

Hajime shook his head. "No, at least you know your answer. I'm not sure about mine." Hajime sighed and leaned back in his seat, tapping his pointer finger on the table. He squinted slightly in thought, his eyebrows crossing a little. "I'm not sure if I regret it or not. On one hand, maybe I could've been someone good, a lawyer, or something." He took a deep breath. "On the other hand, I could've ended up a crack dealer." Tooru chuckled, and Hajime joined him before he leaned an elbow on the table. "So I'm not entirely sure."

"Yeah, but don't you like working with guns?" Hajime nodded. "Then I think you made the right choice. You picked what you like doing with a definite future," Tooru said. "It makes you happy, right?" Hajime nodded once more. "Then, yes, I think you made the right choice." Tooru laughed. "And you got the beautiful chance to meet me," he added.

Hajime rolled his eyes with a chuckle. Tooru made a good point ― about it making him happy, so, of course, it was a good decision. 

And maybe the whole chance to meet Tooru thing was a good point too.

* * *

Issei forced Takahiro to let him drive him home, and Takahiro let him as long as he came over early in the morning to make him a godly breakfast. At first, he was joking, but when Issei shrugged and went _'sure'_ , Takahiro couldn't help but smile and go with it.

  
  


"Hey, Hanamaki?"

"Mhm?" Takahiro didn't take his gaze away from staring out the window.

"I talked with Konoha whenever he'd come into the room."

" _'Come into the room'._ Aw," Takahiro teased. He leaned over to Issei. "Did you stay by my side the entire time?" 

  
  


No, Issei had not told Takahiro he was at his bedside nearly the entire time he was unconscious. 

No, Issei was not going to tell him. 

  
  


"No, would you shut up?" Issei had been doing a lot of lying lately. "He told me he gave Akaashi a medication for you that hasn't been tested on you before."

"Oh," Takahiro looked over at him. "So I'm just a guinea pig?"

"Yeah, I thought that was obvious."

Takahiro rolled his eyes, smiling even wider when he looked over and saw the small smirk on Issei's face. "My dream. I've always wanted to be a test subject."

"Are you gonna try it?" Issei asked.

"I stopped trying drugs two years ago."

"Don’t you use a drug to keep you awake?"

"Those don't count. Those work to keep me awake, not stop terrifying dreams."

"Still a drug that you are, in fact, trying,” Issei muttered, and Takahiro slapped his arm. "Ow."

"Shut up."

"Can you just try them?" Issei glanced over at him.

Takahiro sighed. He sank lower into his seat, a hand reached up so he could chew on his fingernail. The torturer let out a sigh, trying to make it sound as annoyed as possible. "Fine," he muttered quietly.

"Thank you."

"Whatever, skeleton."

"What happened to the sexy bit?" Issei frowned.

"Apologizes," Takahiro said. "Whatever, sexy skeleton"

Issei cracked a smile. "No problem, Prince Charming."

* * *

Kiyoomi pulled into the parking lot of the bar Atsumu was all too familiar with. He was already shaking, and he was shaking with anger. It wasn't fear. Atsumu was angrier than he was scared. What did he have to be scared of? He just wanted to bash someone's skull in for what they did. It just made him boil with anger, and Kiyoomi obviously realized it ― hell, anyone could if they weren't a blind idiot. 

  
  


"Stay in the car," Kiyoomi ordered as he unbuckled his seat belt.

"What?" Atsumu reached for his own seatbelt and let it uncross his chest, the strap pulling back into place. "No, 'm comin' with, Omi."

"No, you're not." Kiyoomi turned the heat on in the car considering how cold it was outside. "You're going to stay in the car, and I'm going to do this job."

"What makes ya say that?" Atsumu pouted. "Why are ya puttin' me in timeout?"

"I never said timeout, but if you want to be treated like an actual child, I can do that."

"No! Omi!" Atsumu wanted to grab his arm and shake it like he does with everyone; like he does with Osamu; like he does with Keiji; like he does with Takahiro; like he does with Morisuke; like he does with Tooru ― Tooru was the person he learned it from if he was being honest. "Come on. Tell me."

"Because. There's clearly more to the past you had with these people than you're telling me," Kiyoomi said sternly. Atsumu stayed quiet, biting his lip, trying to fumble around in his mind for some type of reasoning. Other than the fact that _'it’s extremely personal',_ Atsumu had nothing. "Exactly." Kiyoomi opened the car door. "Stay in here."

  
  


Atsumu hated being kept in the car like a child. He had to wait for Kiyoomi to do a job while he sat in the front seat, pouting, wondering what was happening and how the job was going. There was a part of him that wanted to get out and join Kiyoomi, but if he was being honest, if the guy saw him, he would probably know that something was up. On the other hand, with just Kiyoomi in there, the job would at least be subtle considering he didn't know Kiyoomi. 

Around thirty minutes passed until the bar door opened, and a man left the bar with Kiyoomi following behind him. It was a blonde guy, glasses, tall ― really tall. Kiyoomi pushed the butt of a knife into his back, moving the blonde into an alleyway. Atsumu suddenly couldn't help himself, and he opened the car door and got out. He tried to calm himself down with deep breaths as he approached the alleyway they walked into. The twin tried to be quiet about approaching the alleyway. The only thing he wanted to do was watch. He really couldn't help himself. The guy had fucked over his whole life; this was one of the guys that had made him who he was today. Sue him for wanting to see him dead. He wanted to kill him before, but Osamu had forbidden it. 

Usually, Atsumu was good at stealth, but considering he was focusing on what was happening and not how quiet he was being, he was found out. Kiyoomi had the blonde backed up to the wall, a knife pressing into his neck. It was clear he was about to do it, end it right there, send the knife through his throat.

"Atsumu, what a pleasant surprise," the guy said, which made Kiyoomi back the blade up only a little. He let his eyes slightly wander to the side to look at Atsumu for a quick second before putting his attention back to the blonde. 

The mysophobe let out an annoyed sigh. "Atsumu, I told you to stay in the car," he groaned. Atsumu came from around the corner, his eyes staying glued to the blonde backed up against the wall. He felt his body getting hotter, like the anger in his body was shaking up and he was about to explode like a shaken-up bottle of Sprite.

"Well, I didn't," Atsumu replied quietly. He tried his hardest to keep himself calm as he stepped closer. The blonde smirked which was weird considering he was the one who was definitely fucked right about now.

"Go back to the car."

"No."

Kiyoomi sighed. "Then promise to stay quiet on the ride back home." 

Atsumu only nodded. If being silent was the only price he had to pay, he was fine with that. Atsumu could sit in silence on the four-hour ride home. He was sure he could.

"Aw, taking orders like you always do, aren't you, Atsumu?" Atsumu bit his lip, keeping his locked stare at the blonde. His taunts, his crooked smile. Atsumu wanted to be the one to kill him. He had never been so angry before. When he learned about what he had done, Atsumu was heartbroken, sad, angry, and confused. He had thought they were his friends; he had thought they were his family. Now? Atsumu wanted nothing but revenge seeing the look on the guy's face. "What? Not going to say anything?" The blonde chuckled.

"Shut up," Kiyoomi intervened. 

"Please. If you wanted to kill me, you would've done it before Atsumu walked out here." The guy rolled his eyes, a cocky grin on his face. "Atsumu, hey, Atsumu, how's Osamu doing? Still being a little bitch and refusing to fight?" Atsumu took another step closer. He was about to reach in, grab the guy by the collar, maybe spit in his face before slamming his head into the brick wall behind him. Though he didn't have a chance when Kiyoomi lifted a hand and put it in front of Atsumu to stop him from stepping closer, his other hand still threatened the blade at the guy's throat. 

The blonde laughed. "What? That's it? A hand is all it takes to stop you?" He chuckled lowly. "I guess you were always like a little puppy when it came to taking orders. You and your mother."

Atsumu felt something in him snap, like a string on a guitar. He pushed Kiyoomi out of the way ― in the kindest way possible that you could shove a human being. Only using two fingers, he moved the taller one to the side and quickly grabbed out his own machete from his belt. He held it up to the guy's neck who just laughed again. What was so fucking funny to him? Taunting Atsumu like this. Hadn't he gotten enough out of him? When was it _'stop'_?

"You've grown, I see. Not listening to Osamu anymore? I remember when you two figured it out. How mad you were, the look in your eyes ― similar to now, what you clearly wanted to do but oh nooooo," the blonde chuckled, "Osamu said _'no, it's not worth it. Don't do it. Let's just leave,'_ and you actually listened to him! Now you have a mind of your own? Impressive." Atsumu just pushed the blade closer, the sharp metal cutting into the surface of the skin on his neck. A line of blood trailed down, however, the guy didn't seem fazed by it. "I always knew Miya Atsumu would come to finish me off for what I did."

"Yeah?" Atsumu ground his teeth slightly. "What exactly didja do?" He pushed the machete further. "What part didja play?"

The blonde smirked. "I was the one who told the Boss it was a good idea. Helped organize it actually." He chuckled, clearly strained sounding but you couldn't really blame him considering the situation. "I helped pick you twins." Atsumu stayed quiet for a moment. He was thinking. The side of him that wanted to completely finish the guy off, then the other side of him that was telling him to wait.

"Why?" Atsumu decided to ask. He took a deep breath, it shaking as he exhaled. "Why didja pick us?"

"Isn't it obvious?" The blonde asked. "You were there, already fucked up. Your mom was already fucked up, your parents were clearly about to get a divorce. Your family was fucked." He laughed. "If anything we helped you. You had no other family to go to aside from your piss poor aunt who just abandoned you after everything happened." 

Atsumu stayed quiet, speechless. Miya Atsumu was speechless. He wanted to shout at him. _'How was it yer fuckin' decision to decide whether or not my life was fucked up?'_ Something like that. Though he didn't. He didn't say anything. 

Atsumu just pushed the blade until it hit the brick wall behind him.

He backed up a step when the head dropped, letting the machete fall from his grasp in his hand. Biting down on his bottom lip, Atsumu fought back tears. He felt his breathing start to speed up. Were there more of those bastards in the bar? Atsumu had to know. He wanted to know. The taunt over the fact that there were more people left that still fucked over his life. Osamu had talked him down from the thirst of revenge, but now that he had gotten a taste of it? Atsumu wanted to feel it.

"Atsumu."

Atsumu slowly lifted his head and looked over. Kiyoomi stood there, his chin was raised in a confident way, but there was still a look in his eyes that was soft. As if it understood. Kiyoomi could never understand.

"Yeah?" He asked finally, his voice was quiet, slightly shaky, and scratchy in the back of his throat. 

"Let's go." Atsumu looked back at the corpse that fell to the alley floor. He stared at it, watching as the pool of blood grew in size. "It's already eleven. We can find a hotel around." Atsumu closed his eyes, and he took a deep breath. He opened them, leaning down and picking up the machete he used for his revenge. Staring at the blade, he watched the blood trail down as he held it upright before he wiped it on the side of his pants before slipping it back in the sheath. 

"Yeah," he mumbled. "Yeah, let's go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Twitter @mattsuhana
> 
> I HOPE YOU ALL HAD A GREAT CHRISTMAS


	13. Sputtered apologies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just. A lot goes on. Idk summaries are hard

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Small baby Tanaka insert

**MAR. 10**

Keiji leaned against the fridge in the lounge room with a cup of coffee brought up to his lips. He listened to Tooru talk, the older one going off about the other night from before.

"He just seemed so interested in me," Tooru said with a sigh as he plopped down at the small, round table. He let his head fall on the surface, giving a little groan when he made contact.

"I think you're probably whipped," Keiji commented which caused Tooru to snap his head up. His hair was pushed out to the side, and he reached up to fix it. 

"What? No."

"You went on a date with Iwaizumi, Oikawa."

"That wasn't a date."

"You guys talked about each other's past." Keiji lowered the cup and set it on the counter. He crossed his arms, raising an eyebrow at Tooru. "You got to know each other better. How was that not a date?"

"Well, we talked about Makki too," Tooru mumbled under his breath. Keiji was still able to pick up on it despite how quiet Tooru had said it. His eyebrows raised a little; his lips parting slightly.

"Huh? What did you say about him?" Keiji asked.

Tooru bit his lip. "Everything," he said, managing to say it even quieter than before as he moved his head down in shame, moving his mouth behind his sleeve.

"Everything?" Keiji sighed. "What does that even mean?"

"I just―" Tooru sighed. "I went off! It's stressful!" 

Keiji ran a hand through his hair, exhaling deeply. His hand moved down his face, and he blinked a few hundred times. "Okay just ― fuck I forgot to check on Hanamaki this morning." Keiji picked up his cup. "Are you coming with?"

"Should I?" Tooru still sounded disappointed in himself. "Is he even gonna want to see me after I just sold out almost his whole life?"

"He's unconscious."

Tooru sighed. "Fine."

  
  


Tooru and Keiji headed down to the medical ward of the building. The secretary was there, flipping papers, writing things down, sticking her tongue out as she worked. Keiji walked up to the counter.

"Hey, Kiyoko," he spoke. The black-haired woman looked up, smiling once she saw Keiji. "Can we check on Hanamaki?" He asked.

"Hanamaki?" Kiyoko asked. "You don't know?" Keiji leaned off the counter, standing up straight. Tooru had snapped to attention. "I guess that's a no," she quietly mumbled. She picked up a piece of paper and slid it across the counter. "He left this note." Keiji picked up the paper Kiyoko slid over, and Tooru leaned over his shoulder to read it as well.

_'Yo, losers, I'm outtie. Heading home. Thanks for the three days of unconsciousness <3' _

What a stupid fucking letter. Keiji crumpled the paper in his hand and tossed it over the counter. He took a deep sigh in annoyance. "Do you know where he is now?" Keiji asked.

Kiyoko shrugged. "I assume he's at home, considering what the letter says," she said as she picked it up. She tossed it in a nearby trash bin. "You can call him, I'm sure he's awake."

"Right," Keiji muttered. "Yeah, thanks, Kiyoko."

"No problem, Akaashi." She smiled. "Anything else you need?" 

Keiji glanced over at Tooru. "Knee checkup?" He asked the brunette standing beside him

Tooru shook his head. "No," he mumbled. "No, I think I'm alright for now. I'm worried about Makki more."

Keiji nodded in agreement. Wherever Takahiro had gone was probably a much bigger issue than Tooru's knee right now. "Yeah," he said. "Yeah, let's get going to find him. See you, Kiyoko." Keiji waved, and Kiyoko returned a smile as they walked away. 

  
  


Keiji and Tooru walked down toward the offices. 

"He's in so much trouble," Keiji said. Tooru could only nod.

* * *

Keiji called for everyone to head to the lounge, a little pager that gave a certain amount of rings of what to do. Three buzzes were for everyone to report to the lounge room. Everyone did, some of the new members having to be told by the old ones what those beeps exactly meant. Regardless, everyone was still there minus Kiyoomi, Takahiro, Hitoka, and the twins.

"So he still doesn't come," Keiji muttered under his breath. 

"Who?" Shouyou asked. He sat on the back of the couch. Under his weight, it didn’t even threaten to tip over the couch. The fact that Tetsurou, Koutarou, and Morisuke were on the couch probably helped too. "Who didn't come?"

"Hanamaki."

"He's asleep, isn't he?" Hajime asked, raising an eyebrow, standing leaned against the counter near the fridge with his arms crossed.

"No. Apparently, he isn't." Keiji sighed. "He woke up and left." He looked over at Akinori who stared down into his coffee cup. "You knew," he said.

Akinori shrugged slightly. "I might have had a vague idea he was awake."

"And you didn't tell any of us?" Keiji's voice was raising slightly, which was kind of abnormal for him.

Koutarou decided to speak up. "Akaashi, hey, I mean, he was only knocked unconscious? Shouldn't he have woken up before me?" He asked.

Keiji shook his head. "No, he's not that easy." Koutarou raised an eyebrow. Now was probably the best time to tell everyone whether Takahiro wanted them to know or not. Honestly, them not knowing was a safety hazard. "For the people who don't know about Hanamaki," he looked around the room. His eyes landed on Issei, Shouyou, Koutarou, Tetsurou since they were the ones who Keiji knew weren’t aware of Takahiro ― or at least, thought they didn’t know. "He doesn't necessarily sleep, he does, because that's not actually possible to not sleep at all, but he sleeps as little as he can. It has to do with nightmares."

"Nightmares?" Shouyou turned his head. "I mean, don't we all get nightmares?"

"Nothing as bad as his," Keiji muttered quietly.

"Makki tortures people," Tooru intervened. "It's a huge strain on his mental health." He looked around the room again. Everyone looked sad though some looked as if they had some idea that something was different about Takahiro. There were signs. The constant yawning, always a cup of coffee with him, staying at work the latest, bags under his eyes, short attention span. 

There was one person's reaction that kind of shocked Tooru. Issei's. He didn't seem that off about this. 

"Mattsun," Tooru said. Issei looked up from his locked glare with the floor and made eye contact with him. "You knew already, didn't you?" Issei nodded, and Tooru slowly started to piece it together. "He told you when he woke up, didn't he?" It took a few more seconds, he was clearly hesitant, but Issei nodded again. Tooru looked over at Tetsurou. "That means you knew he was awake, too?"

"What?" Tetsurou asked in a high voice. "What does that have to do with me?" Morisuke kicked him in the side. He nudged his foot further in his side.

"The locker room. You were delivering a message for Makki, weren't you?"

Tetsurou frowned. "No," he lied in a quiet voice, but everyone in the room could see past it. Tetsurou was a horrible liar. "Yeah, whatever, I did," he finally said when everyone had been staring at him. He broke too easily. "He told me not to tell anyone he was awake!" 

"So you listen to him?" Hajime asked.

"Yeah." Tetsurou shrugged. "Why wouldn't I?"

Keiji sighed. "You just ― okay," he ran his fingers through his hair. "Alright, the only people that don't know are―" he glanced around the room again, doing a mental headcount. "Sakusa,” he muttered under his breath, listing the people missing. “The twins know but they're not here. Where are they?"

"'Samu's in the kitchen! Of course," Shouyou said.

"Sakusa and Atsumu are still on that job," Tobio spoke up. Kiyoomi had asked Tobio about a gun, to which the gunman happily suggested one. He had told him he would tell him how it worked, and there had been this elated spark through Tobio he felt when he got to give advice about his passion to people. So, of course, Tobio would know whether or not Kiyoomi and Atsumu were back yet. He was still waiting on that report from the mysophobe.

"Still?" Tooru asked. Tobio nodded. "Why are they taking so long?" 

Keiji could probably guess. It definitely had to do with what the job was, and Tooru had no idea what it was. "I'll explain later," he said. Tooru squinted at him. Keiji ignored it, turning his attention back to the rest of the room. "What about Hitoka?”

“She’s in the armory, I think,” Morisuke said. “I finished making something so she’s working on space for that.”

Keiji nodded. "Alright, well, then I guess Hanamaki’s at home." He sighed and pulled his keys from his back pocket. "I'll go get him."

"Actually," Issei said, and Keiji stopped at the door. "He's in his office."

"And you know that." Keiji sighed. "Of course, you know that." Keiji shook his head slightly and turned back to the door. "I'll be right back, I guess."

* * *

Kiyoomi, if he was being honest, was a little bit scared to knock on the hotel door. The two of them had driven back in silence last night and arrived at a nearby hotel. They had gotten separate rooms and exchanged no more words. Kiyoomi would normally say something like, _'remember to shower'_ or something, though he was sure Atsumu would remember to shower considering he had blood on his face, so he didn't say anything. 

It was around six AM, the time Kiyoomi would normally get up for work, so he thought it would be the perfect time to start driving back. Obviously, leaving Atsumu behind was not an option, so here he was, standing at his hotel door and ready to knock.

He drummed his knuckles on the wood, stepping a bit closer to get a better listen to behind the locked door but not too close as to not touch it. "Atsumu?" He called out. It was a few moments that Kiyoomi was left unanswered. That was until the door slowly opened. He could see Atsumu's puffy red face through the small crack. "Atsumu?" He asked again, softer.

Atsumu took a deep breath. There was a soft, white towel on his shoulders, and he wiped his face with it with a sigh. He opened the door and backed into the room. "Come in," he muttered quietly. He sat on the edge of the bed, quiet, staring down at his hands as he picked at his own fingernails. "Whaddya need?"

"Did you sleep?" Kiyoomi asked. Atsumu shook his head. He ran his fingers through his damp hair. The unbrushed, bleached locks fell still fell into the trained placement of being brushed the right.

"No," he answered. "No, I couldn't." He sighed and looked up at the ceiling. "I'm guessin' ya want an explanation or somethin'."

"I do, of course," Kiyoomi said. He stepped in and closed the door with his foot. "Though that doesn't mean you're permitted to give me one."

"I mean, I acted pretty unprofessionally," Atsumu said.

"That still doesn't mean you have to tell me private information if you don't want to,” Kiyoomi replied. Atsumu looked at him for a quick second, his eyebrows twisted, a pained look on his face. He looked away to the ground. "You want to tell me, don't you? Get it off your chest?" 

The twin choked back a sob, hiding his mouth with the back of his hand. He brought his feet up on the bed, hugging his legs as he let his forehead hit his knees. A large sob came from, and Kiyoomi could tell from the sound that it was something he had been holding back for so long. "He's gonna be so mad at me," Atsumu got through cries in a whisper. Kiyoomi took a few steps closer despite the chill he felt that ran down his spine. The bed looked clean enough, so he sat down next to him. Atsumu lifted his head, resting his chin on the top of his knees. "'Samu’s gonna fuckin' kill me."

"Why?"

"I broke the promise," he whispered. Atsumu was only talking in whispers as if his twin was nearby and there was a chance he could hear him. "When 'Samu and I were six, our ma got into a con business with some guy," he began. His knees fell. He sat normally on the edge of the bed, a tear or two trailing "It got bad and fucked up." He put a hand to his heart as if it hurt him, and maybe it really did. Kiyoomi wouldn't know. "The guy came into our house and ki―" He closed his eyes and bit his lip. "He killed our ma. Right there. We were under the bed hidin'. She put us there, and we're pretty sure it was 'cause it was a way of using herself as a shield." He slowly shook his head. "Some people adopted us ― _they_ did." 

He sighed and opened his eyes, staring up at the ceiling. "'Samu ‘n I went with 'em, obviously. We didn't know they were the ones that done it. They trained us for years until we were sixteen and learned who they were and what they did. The entire time we were clueless." Atsumu bit his lip and looked over at Kiyoomi. He stared at him, blank expression, though if Atsumu looked close enough, there was pity in his eyes. Something was there ― something that told him he wasn't just listening to Atsumu because he had to. Atsumu chuckled sadly and looked to the ground. "We were stupid. Didn't even realize we were workin' with the people who fucked up our lives."

"It's not like you could've known. You were six?" Kiyoomi asked. Atsumu nodded. "Then how could you have known? They targeted you at a young age on purpose."

"Doesn't make me feel any less dumb," Atsumu mumbled. He reached up, wiping away a tear at the corner of his eye. "Sorry. Me and 'Samu don't talk 'bout it much, even with each other," he muttered quietly. "It's a lot, I know. Sorry. I bet ya have some fucked up past too like the rest of us, and I'm just being a coward."

Kiyoomi shook his head. "Not nearly," he said. "The closest that I know of having that fucked up of a past is Hinata or maybe Matsukawa."

"Hinata?" Atsumu asked. "Really?" Kiyoomi nodded. "Surprisin’. 'M interested."

"It's pretty interesting, and it's kind of unbelievable." Kiyoomi stood up from the bed, not wanting to think about what was on the bed before. He would be sure to scrub himself clean and maybe burn his clothes. It was a hotel after all. "Come on. We should head back."

Atsumu nodded. "Yah," he said. "I'll be out in ten." Kiyoomi nodded and headed to the door. He took one look back at Atsumu before closing the door behind him. 

  
  


Kiyoomi stood in the hallway for a few moments, staring at the wall in front of him. He chewed his lip, squinting slightly. None of that was expected. He had an idea it had to do something with the Miyas’ mother. When the guy had made the comment about their mom, it was what set Atsumu off, but Kiyoomi was not expecting that would be the reason. Just who were those people? Definitely con artists but what kind? Atsumu was twenty-three, and they had killed his parents when he was six. Seventeen years.

Kiyoomi sighed and started to head back to his room to gather his things. _'What kind of long con was that?'_

* * *

Osamu sighed, carrying a small, brown paper bag in his hands as he walked down the hallway. He really needed a delivery person because frankly, he was quite sick of having to deliver meals he was making for people, especially when he most definitely didn't have to make anything for anyone. 

His exception this time was that Takahiro had called him saying, _'Don't tell anyone I'm awake and deliver creampuffs, king, please?'_ Osamu caved in just because he knew Takahiro's personal struggles with his nightmares and sleeping ― or not sleeping ― habits.

  
  


As he walked the halls, it seemed like every time that Osamu did, he somehow always ran into her. It made him seem like he most definitely made the right choice to marry her. Hitoka carried a laundry basket as she headed down the hallway. She tended to do the laundry since she had plenty of free time, it was extra pay, and why not? Hitoka liked something to keep herself busy. 

"Hey," Osamu called out, and Hitoka turned, holding the basket at her hip. She smiled as Osamu caught up with her, and the couple continued to walk down the hallway together.

“Hey,” she said. “What are you doing?” 

“Delivery,” Osamu replied, holding up the bag. 

“For who?”

“Hanamaki.”

“He’s awake?” Hitoka’s voice was kind of loud, but she lowered it to a whisper realizing it was probably something not everyone knew. They stopped at the fork in the hallway where they had to separate, the direction toward the laundry room, showers, bathrooms, and then the offices and workplaces. He reached over, placing a kiss on her cheek.

“Guess so. I’ll catch ya later, sweetie, ‘kay?”

“Mhm,” Hitoka happily hummed. “Good luck.”

Osamu let out a light chuckle and left toward the offices, his hand slipping off her back as he moved in the other direction.

  
  


He continued on his walk to the offices. Something about running into Hitoka every now and then fueled something in him, like, _‘Hey, maybe I can actually get through the day without wanting to go on a rage and cook everything in the kitchen.’_

He knocked on the office door to the strawberry blonde's door. Strawberry blonde? Dirty strawberry blonde? Osamu would never be able to describe Takahiro. He was a hundred percent sure he randomly dyed his hair at three in the morning just because he had time. It was always random colors, like a brighter pink one day, and a light brown another day, and the next day it would be a faded, light red. 

The door peaked open slightly before it was quickly ripped open after a few seconds. Takahiro was on the other side, of course, tired eyes. He had bags under his eyes, but they weren't nearly as bad as they were when Osamu had seen him the day of the last job ― the one he was knocked unconscious during.

Takahiro pulled him in the room by the collar of the shirt, and Osamu swore he almost dropped the bag. "'Samu! King shit!" He said as he closed the door and snatched the bag from him. Takahiro basically skipped to his desk and sat on it, not hesitating to open the bag and stare into it. "Oh, my god. They're still warm," he whispered. "I'm going to fucking marry you."

"Yer late fer that," Osamu chuckled, rolling his eyes. "Anyway, talk to me."

"Talk to you?" Takahiro turned his head in question slightly, hand reaching into the bag to grab a creampuff. "And say what?" He asked before biting into the dessert. 

"What happened?"

Takahiro shrugged. "I just passed out," he replied. "Nothing really to it, Osamu. Normal stuff. What about you?" He asked. "Atsumu's job."

"Ya know 'bout that?" Osamu raised an eyebrow.

"Atsumu told Akaashi, Akaashi told Bokuto, Bokuto told Matsukawa, Matsukawa told me." Takahiro smiled, but then he dropped it. "So how are you feeling about that?" Osamu was quiet for a moment. He was not a fan of how quickly the conversation moved from talking about Takahiro's problems to his own. With a sigh, he walked into the room, taking a seat on the armrest of the couch in Takahiro's office. It was pushed against the back wall, a coffee table in front of it, a stand with a TV on it a few more feet in front of that. There was a small nightstand on each side of the couch.

Osamu fell back over on the couch, staring up at the ceiling. "Scared, honestly," he finally answered. He sighed again, closing his eyes. "'Tsumu might do somethin' I don't want him to."

"Would you hate him if he got revenge?"

"No," Osamu responded quickly. "No, 'course not. I can't hate 'im, I love him. I know him well, and we're too connected, ya know?" Osamu opened his eyes and stared up at the ceiling. At the angle he was at, he really couldn't see Takahiro. That didn't mean that he didn't know that Takahiro was watching him carefully, slowly chewing on the cream puffs to savor them. "If he wants revenge, I can't really stop him. 'Tsumu is a killer. I'm not -- least not anymore. If he wants to, I'll let him, but I'm not gonna help him." 

Takahiro nodded, even though he knew the younger twin couldn't see him. 

"I understand if he wants to. What happened pisses me off too, and I wanna do somethin’ 'bout it but violence ain't the answer. I'm sick of it."

"I know, Osamu," Takahiro said. He put the bag down next to him. "I know." He stretched his hands above his head, groaning with a deep exhale. "Have Sakusa and Atsumu gotten back yet?"

Osamu shook his head.

"You worried about that?"

"A little," Osamu said with a shrug. "But the job was four hours out."

Takahiro nodded. "Long ride."

"Long ride," Osamu repeated in a whisper. 

  
  


Takahiro was about to ask something else, but he never got the chance when Takahiro's office door opened. "Fuck," he muttered under his breath.

"When were you going to reveal you were awake?" Keiji invited himself into his office, standing in front of Takahiro, ignoring the fact that Osamu was laying on the couch -- now he was looking over as he tried to sit up.

"I actually wasn't planning to," Takahiro replied with a shrug, picking up the bag of sweets he had set down. He reached in again and shoved one in his mouth. "I was just gonna wait until you figured out," he said.

"What did you do?"

"Nothing. Why do you always assume I did something?" Keiji glared at him. "You know what? That's fair," Takahiro muttered. "Anyway, I didn't do anything, I just went home."

"Did you sleep?"

"Of course not."

Keiji sighed. 

"Didja expect him to?" Osamu asked as he walked over. He crossed his arms. 

“Not really,” Keiji said. “What are you doing here? You knew about him being awake too?” Osamu pointed to the paper bag Takahiro held in his hand. Keiji looked over at him, watching as Takahiro shoved a creampuff into his mouth with an innocent-looking expression on his face. “Of course.” He sighed. “Come on, Hanamaki.”

“Where?” Takahiro tossed the empty paper bag on his desk and wiped his hands on his pants.

“Konoha.”

Takahiro froze. “No,” he said. “I’m not doing anything.”

“You have to.”

“I don’t have to do shit.”

“Hanamaki.”

“Akaashi.” It was a staredown between the two of them, Keiji staring at Takahiro, Takahiro glaring back. Takahiro hated doctor checkups with a passion. Why do you think he slipped out of his room when he woke up and didn’t tell anyone? He was trying to avoid everything. 

Then he remembered Issei and what he told him. He told him he would try the new drug that Akinori had for him, and Takahiro _trusted_ Issei. Legitimately, he trusted him. 

He sighed and hopped off the desk, scratching the side of his face. “Alright, fine,” he mumbled.

“ _‘Fine’_?” Keiji repeated, a bit surprised.

“Yah, _‘fine_ ’?” Osamu asked. The twin crossed his arms. “Just like that?”

Takahiro shrugged. “Just like that. Let’s go before I change my mind.”

* * *

Takahiro and Keiji walked to the medical ward of the building. Silence walked with them. Osamu had returned to head back to the kitchen. He was worried as all hell for Atsumu, so he thought he should make him something for him that he knew he liked. Some fatty tuna would be nice. 

Again, on the way back, he, of course, ran into Hitoka. Right when he turned the corner to head away from the offices, he almost bumped into her again, literally. 

“I should’ve known,” he mumbled. 

Hitoka smiled. “It happens way too often.”

“I agree but maybe it’s fate,” he said. “Ya need a new hobby besides runnin’ into me.”

“I’m fine with it,” Hitoka shrugged. “You’re heading back to the kitchen?”

“Yah, plannin’ on makin’ somethin’ for ‘Tsumu for when he gets back. Should be anytime now.”

“Mind if I join you?” Hitoka asked. “I’ve got nothing to do anyway. Landry's clean, the armory's clean. I was gonna go start the car to leave anyway.”

Osamu nodded. “I insist. Let’s go.”

  
  


On his way into the kitchen, Osamu flipped on the light switch and grabbed his apron off the hooks next to the door. He walked in, Hitoka following behind him as Osamu lifted the apron over his head. His hands reached to the back and fumbled around for his strings.

“Here.” Osamu froze, stopping his hands near his sides when he felt a small tug on the apron from the back. Hitoka grabbed the strings, tying it in the back for him. “There,” she muttered under her breath. Osamu turned to face her, catching the concentrated look on her face paired with the tongue sticking out of her mouth. The chef couldn’t help but laugh, and he grabbed a hold of her cheeks, tilting her face upwards. He leaned down, pressing his lips lightly against hers. Her hands reached out and grabbed the top of his apron, repositioning it around his neck as her hands slid down his chest, melting into the soft kiss of her fiancé.

He pulled away, only to press his forehead against hers and open his eyes to look into hers. Osamu couldn’t help but smile, standing there alone with Hitoka like this. “Ya know, I’m really in love with ya, right?”

Hitoka giggled. “Oh, really? I didn’t know.”

“Surprisin’,” Osamu said. He backed away, his hands slipping from her face as he moved to the sink. “Remember to wash yer hands.” 

Hitoka rolled her eyes but headed to the sink. Every time they worked in the kitchen together, because sometimes Hitoka joined him simply because she loved his company and he loved hers, he’d always say that. 

_Every time_. 

And she thought it was so cute of him. 

“So what are we making?” Hitoka asked as she watched Osamu scrub plenty with soap, massaging the soap into his forearms. For someone who didn’t get physical activity as the assassins did, Osamu was fit. That is if you were asking Hitoka. 

“Fatty tuna.”

“Fatty tuna?” 

Osamu nodded while backing up from the sink. He grabbed a clean towel on a small, nearby rack and dried his hands off. “Yup. ‘Tsumu’s favorite.” He headed to the fridge and pulled out some nicely packaged meat. “I’ll show ya how to make it.”

* * *

Kiyoomi put the car in park and gathered up his things, his phone, his bag from the back. He opened the car door and got out. Closing it behind him, he started to head to the building, though the mysphobe stopped when he realized the twin wasn’t following him. He turned back to the car and saw Atsumu in the front seat. Blankly, he stared at the dashboard, completely unaware that they had arrived back at work.

With a sigh, Kiyoomi approached back to the car and opened Atsumu’s door. He tapped a single finger on the other’s shoulder and nudged him nicely. “Hey, idiot, come on. We’re here.”

“Osamu.”

“Huh?”

“Where’s ‘Samu?”

“My guess is the kitchen.” Atsumu slowly nodded. “Come on. I’ll walk you there," Kiyoomi offered without thinking. The twin nodded again and got out of the car. Atsumu took one look back in the front seat to see if he was missing anything before he turned back to the building and started to head toward it. Kiyoomi caught up to him after closing the car door, walking beside him into the building. Atsumu's steps were weird. You could tell by the way he walked that there was something bothering him. It seemed that when Atsumu felt guilty, he didn’t care about hiding it.

They headed straight for the kitchen, and Atsumu threw open the door. Osamu and Hitoka were standing at the counter. They looked up to the door when it had swung open abruptly. They were standing close together, sleeves rolled up, aprons on as Osamu taught Hitoka how to make whatever they were making. 

“Osamu," was all that came from Atsumu.

Osamu was quick to drop what he was doing, setting down a sharp knife, rushing to the sink to wash and dry his hands. “‘Tsumu, yer back,” he mumbled. He tossed down the towel he used to dry his hands on back on the counter and stepped up to him. “What’s wrong?” Atsumu shook his head. Clearly, there were tears that were pooling up in his eyes. It was obvious he was holding them back as he wrapped his arms around his twin. When Osamu’s arms wrapped back around Atsumu, the thief broke down. He hiccuped back a sob and clenched onto the back of Osamu’s apron.

“I broke the promise, ‘Samu. I did it. I'm sorry. I didn’t mean to.” He rested his chin on his shoulder. “Somethin’ took over me, and I just killed ‘em, and oh, my god. Is that fatty tuna?”

“Ya did what now?” Osamu asked. Atsumu had pulled away and looked around Osamu to where Hitoka was standing, the work of the fatty tuna they were making was on the counter in front of her. He snapped his attention back to Osamu, and he reached up, using the palm of his hand to wipe away more oncoming tears.

“There was―” He took a deep breath. “Kei was there.”

“Kei?” Osamu shook his head. “Ya killed Kei?” Atsumu bit his lip, and he slowly nodded, staring down to not make eye contact with his twin. “Atsumu, look at me.”

“No.”

“Look at me, ‘m not mad.”

Atsumu slowly looked up. “Yer not?”

“No,” Osamu said, shaking his head. “I talked ‘bout it with Hanamaki actually.” He sighed. “Look. Ya can get revenge if ya want, I‘m just not gonna help ya.” He ruffled his twin’s hair as if he was ten years younger than him. “I know the feelin’ of wantin’ to get back at ‘em.”

Atsumu put his face in his hands. He bit back a small sob. “God, ‘m gonna fuckin’ cry.”

“Yer already cryin’.”

“Shut yer trap, will ya?” Atsumu took his face from his hands. “I was terrified.”

“Of me?”

“Of ya hatin’ me for killin’ him.”

Osamu scoffed. “Yer an assassin. Can’t really get mad at ya fer doin’ ya job.” Osamu turned and reached over on the counter next to Hitoka. He grabbed a small plate of already made fatty tuna and turned back to hand it to Atsumu. “Here ya go. Fatty tuna for ya.”

Atsumu took a shuddering deep breath and accepted the plate. “Yer the best.”

Osamu smiled. “I know.”

* * *

Takahiro had pretty much one request: he just wanted Issei to be there when he was getting put under. 

The tank of anesthesia could be seen out of the corner of his eye as he sat on the bed in one of the rooms in the medical ward. He stared down at his hands in his lap, picking the skin around his fingernails. The mask he was going to have put over his mouth and nose was sitting balanced on the tank of knock-out gas, and he shivered at the thought of being unconscious.

The door opened, and he looked up, smiling at the tall assassin who stepped in the room.

“Matsukawa,” Takahiro said in relief to see him. “Hey,” was all he could manage. He really didn’t know what to say. It was an awkward situation, in his opinion. Normally, he wouldn’t talk about serious things with Issei. He was his comfort zone; he was the idiot he could joke around with; he was the friend he could count on for a laugh or two. It hadn’t been long of knowing each other but Takahiro felt completely at his trust as if he knew him for years.

He hadn’t even been serious when he was telling him about his past. Both of them cracked a few jokes and smiles. None of them were ever a hundred percent serious. It was strange, considering now, Takahiro didn’t want to joke around. He was scared. One of the first times in his life, Takahiro was deathly scared.

“Hey,” Issei replied back. He took a seat in a chair that sat next to the bed. “So are you ready?”

Takahiro shrugged. “Not really but I have to do it sometime,” he mumbled. “Konoha told me he used it on someone before and it worked.” He raised an eyebrow at Issei. “Do you have any information about that?” Surprisingly, he nodded.

“Yeah, actually,” Issei said. “Yeah. Hinata took the same thing he’s going to give you.”

“Hinata?” Issei nodded. “Hinata got nightmares?”

“Oh, yeah.” Issei scoffed. “Terrible ones. His past is―” He took a deep breath. “Fucked up. _Really_ fucked up.”

“More fucked up than mine?”

“Depends on what yours is.”

“I could tell you,” Takahiro whispered with a smirk. Just talking with Issei always made him feel better like he could freely talk about anything without any consequence. 

“After you wake up,” Issei replied. 

“Fine,” Takahiro muttered. “You tell me yours too?” 

“Sure.” Takahiro gave one soft, short nod, and the two of them fell into a silence. It really wasn’t like them, but regardless, it was nice.

  
  


It wasn’t long until Akinori walked in with Keiji and Tooru. Upon seeing them, Takahiro felt his heart rate speed up. He looked over to Issei as they approached his bed. “Matsukawa, I'm sorry. I don’t actually think I’m really ready for this.” Takahiro had started to shift his legs to hang them off the bed, but Issei put his palm to his shoulder and lightly pushed him to lay back down.

“You’re going to be fine, Hanamaki.” Takahiro looked off to the side, staring at the tank of anesthesia. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Akinori grab a needle, and soon, he was standing next to him, shoving it into his arm and setting it in place with medical tape. Takahiro could feel it in his veins right away. He reached out, grabbing Issei’s sleeve of his shirt. Tightly, he gripped it and looked Issei in the eyes. “Hanamaki?”

“Matsukawa, I can’t. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry.” His voice was quiet, on the verge of breaking down. For fuck sake, Takahiro was terrified. Issei by his side or not, he was scared. Issei sat on the edge of his bed, his hand now holding his ― probably partly to stop Takahiro from literally ripping his shirt. “I can’t do this. I'm sorry. Fuck I can’t. What if it doesn’t work? It could work for Hinata, but will it work for me?” Akinori stepped up to the anesthesia tank, picking up the mask and turning the dial on it. Takahiro could hear the hiss in the air, and it freaked him out even more.

“Hana ― Takahiro.” Takahiro froze, and he bit his lip. If the blood hadn’t drained from his face from fear leaving his face pale, maybe Issei would’ve noticed he was turning the skin white from how hard he was biting. “It’ll be okay.” Issei reached a hand up behind him toward Akinori. The doctor raised an eyebrow before understanding, and he handed Issei the mask. “I’ll be here when you wake up,” Issei said as he started to bring the mask closer to Takahiro’s face. Takahiro shifted his face left, moved his head back deeper into the pillow. Obviously, it was useless, and Issei placed the mask over his face. Takahiro’s hands went up, grabbing Issei’s wrists as one hand held the mask and the other held the side of Takahiro’s face. His fingernails dug in as his eyelids slowly started closing. 

It was ten seconds of Takahiro fighting for consciousness. His grip was getting weaker and weaker, his eyes began to roll to the back of his head. He tried to mutter something under his breath but nothing could be heard through the mask. Soon enough, Takahiro was out. His body went limp, and the torturer slipped into unconsciousness.

Issei sighed, pulling the mask away and sitting up straight. He reached for the tank and turned it off, the hissing noise cutting off. “And I guess we wait now.”

* * *

After getting a call from Koutarou, Keiji was making his way down to the weight room. He made his way quickly, Koutarou seemed excited as he was on the other end of the phone.

Keiji pushed open the door and stepped in, looking at Koutarou who sat on a workout bench and Ryuunosuke who stood a few feet away from him doing stretches. He raised an eyebrow at the owl sitting on the bench who looked up to Keiji. 

Koutarou smiled and waved. “Akaashi!”

“Bokuto,” Keiji said, “what did you call me down here for?”

“Tanaka, tell him,” Koutarou said proudly. 

Ryuunosuke sighed. “Bokuto is cleared.”

“Cleared?” Keiji asked, and he looked back to Koutarou. “Meaning a hundred percent?”

“Yup!” Koutarou grinned. “What do you say? Want to go work on a job or something?”

“Seriously?” Keiji scoffed. “He was on crutches yesterday.” 

“He can go but he can't do something that would cause him to get into a fight,” the trainer said. “He can walk around fine enough.”

“He limps.”

“Tanaka made me walk around for five minutes,” Koutarou said kind of proudly. “I did it, no crutches. It just burns a little bit, Akaashi.”

“Alright,” Keiji said with a sigh. There was clearly no getting through to Koutarou. “I’ll look for something, I guess.”

“Really?” Koutarou asked, and Keiji nodded. “And you’re not too busy?” 

Keiji shook his head. “No, nothing is going on right now.” He smiled and stepped to Koutarou, running his hand through his hair, brushing back the hair a bit. The gel was wearing a bit thin, the white and black strands of hair slipped out of place. “I’ll look,” he said. 

  
  


Ryuunosuke gave Keiji a weird look as he left the weight room, and he looked over to Koutarou after the door shut behind him. “Dude,” Ryuunosuke said, gathering the owl’s attention, “what was that?”

“What was what?”

“Are you two dating or something?”

“What?” Koutarou let out a nervous laugh. “I uh,” he stuttered, “don’t know, actually.”

“You don’t know?” The trainer asked with a raised eyebrow, and he stood with his hands on his hips. “How do you not know?”

“I dunno,” Koutarou muttered. “We’ve―we’re―” Koutarou sighed. “Nothing. Shut up, ignore it.”

“Hard to ignore something like that,” Ryuunosuke said under his breath, and when he got a glare from Koutarou, he sighed. “Alright, alright. Whatever. Let’s train a bit more if you’re going out on a job already. I want to get you used to being on your feet when they're charred to shit.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Twitter @mattsuhana
> 
> I FORGOT. THE WEDNESDAY AND I'M LATE FOR THIS FRIDAY UPDATE I'M SORRY. This next week I promise I will do the Wednesday update. I completely forgot about New Years when I had made my plans to make up for missing my updates around Christmas.


	14. Planning already

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW // Mention of alcohol

**MAR. 11**

Something about standing there yesterday at Takahiro’s bedside as he watched him be put under shook something inside Tooru. He tried to stay calm. Even walking through the front doors the next day, Tooru had been up nearly all night thinking about his long-time friend’s fearful look that was in his eyes as he watched Issei cover his mouth and nose with the mask. He couldn’t get the burned image out of the back of his skull.

Tooru made his way down the hallway, his teeth pinched down on his lower lip that was close to cutting into the skin, hands at his sides balled into fists, the sting at the corner of his eye. He headed straight to his office. Tooru was sick of seeing Takahiro like this. The effort and strain he went through just to stay awake, how scared he was of doing simple things like _sleeping_.

“Oikawa, hey.” The voice stopped him when he was at his door. He had been ready to throw it open and slam it behind him before drowning himself in a bottle of liquor. The person calling his name stopped him, and Tooru looked over.

“Iwa,” Tooru spoke quietly. He opened his door, looking in the room and catching eye of the whiskey sitting on the small coffee table in the room. “What?”

“What’s up with you?”

“What do you mean?”

“You just angrily walked all the way to your office.” Hajime walked up to him and put a hand on his shoulder. He could feel how tense he was, and he put both hands on his shoulders, rubbing his thumbs in his back a little to try and relax his muscles. “Hey?”

“Just―” Tooru took a deep breath, a little relief came from it as a result of the other’s touch. “Just Makki.” Hajime observed his facial expression. He was clearly bothered, and he was clearly bothered more than he was just telling. There was more than just _‘Makki’._

“Come on,” Hajime said, lightly pushing Tooru in the room. “Let’s talk.”

  
  


Tooru sat on the edge of the couch, leaned forward on his knees, eyes focused on a random part of the floor in front of him. It was to avoid any type of eye contact from Hajime who sat next to him. He couldn’t look him in the eye.

“Makki,” Tooru began to say. He spoke quietly as if anyone could hear them even through the closed doors. “Did you know I’ve known him for six years?”

Hajime nodded.

“Six years ― at least three of those years I’ve had to deal with _him_ dealing with this abnormal sleep pattern.” Tooru put his face in his hands. “I’ve only ever said how it affected him but this shit ruins me too.” He ran his teeth along his bottom lip. “Seeing Makki go through that and not being able to do anything?” Tooru lost words after that, going silent and putting more pressure on his lip.

“I understand,” Hajime mumbled, though he didn't, not that much. Not from experience. Maybe the closest was Kiyoomi who dragged himself down from a past incident he blamed on himself and didn’t talk about it with anyone but just let it bottle up. Possibly even Issei who never spoke of his past from when he was a teenager; they both had scars on them that put them in a bad mood to look at them, but Hajime never had to deal with something that was currently putting his friend through a strain. They were _mostly_ over it.

Hajime massaged his hands into the tense shoulders. Tooru’s back seemed to relax a bit, his torso dropping a little. “Hanamaki will be okay," he tried to reassure.

“What if it doesn’t work?” Tooru whispered. “What if it doesn’t work?” He looked over at Hajime. “He’ll never try anything again, and he’ll just be like this until he dies, and it’s going to kill him one of these days. Mattsun was a _miracle_ to Makki -- he _is_ a miracle to Makki. For the first time in almost two years, he’s finally trying something else.” Tooru shuddered a breath. “What if we messed up our shot?”

Hajime brushed back a strand of hair from Tooru’s face, it seemed his hair was getting as disheveled as he was. “It’ll be fine,” he said. Tooru sighed, letting his head fall and rest on Hajime's shoulder. He took deep breaths, trying his best to calm himself down.

“I hope so.”

* * *

“Akaashi?” Keiji looked up from his book to his left where Koutarou sat next to him on the couch in his office. Koutarou had his feet propped up on the coffee table in front of them, and he stared at them with a raised eyebrow. He rubbed his hands up and down his thighs, wincing a little from running over the healing cuts on his limbs. “You seem a little off today. What’s up?”

“What do you mean?”

“Your book is upside down and you haven’t realized yet," Koutarou pointed out. Keiji looked back to his book and stared at it. Just as Koutarou had said, the book was upside down. Slowly, he turned the book right side up and frowned. “‘Kaashi, are you alright?” 

“I’m fine.” Keiji sighed. He let his head lean on the back of the couch, staring up at the ceiling. “What about you? You and your injuries.”

“I told you I’m fine with them, Akaashi. Konoha _and_ Tanaka both cleared me” Koutarou said with a smile as he stared down at his legs. “I want to get back out in the field. Did you find anything?” 

Keiji frowned and reached up to scratch the side of his face. He lifted his head up and closed the book. It wasn’t like he was reading it anyway. With a small stretch, Keiji yawned and ran his fingers through his hair. “I might have, but we need more people,” Keiji finally said. “We can’t just go by ourselves.”

“Then I’ll go ask around!” Koutarou said while jumping up. “I’ll be back!” 

Keiji watched him run out of the office and sighed, a smile on his face as he grabbed the book from off the table to set it back on the shelf.

* * *

Shouyou was bored. He got bored quite easily when there was nothing around for him to do. Keishin wasn’t coming at him with any new jobs for him, Koutarou was doing something with Keiji, Issei was refusing to leave Takahiro’s side while he was sleeping, Kiyoomi wouldn’t give him the time of day while he was distracted with whatever the hell was up with the Miya twins, Hajime was busy clearly flirting with Tooru ― not that Shouyou would ever tell him that he was flirting with him to his face.

He jumped up from the couch in the lounge room and stretched with a groan. Slapping his jaw, he looked around the empty room and sighed. 

_‘I could bother Kageyama.’_

  
  


The manipulative assassin left the lounge and headed straight for the offices, searching down the hall. He looked at the small nameplates on the left of the doors for Tobio’s. It was near the end of the hallway, and he didn’t even bother knocking, swinging the door open with a smile.

“Kageyama!” Shouyou announced as he stepped in. Tobio was sitting on the floor in front of the TV of his office, a sniper laying in his lap as he wiped the barrel up and down with a rag. He looked up from it, his movements slowed as he moved his hand up and down, shining the barrel. “What are you doing?”

“What does it look like? I’m cleaning my gun.” Tobio looked back to the firearm. “Why are you just barging in?” Shouyou stepped into the room, walking up to the small, short table Tobio sat next to. There were cleaning supplies set on it and a silver case. The orange sat down on the ground in front of him, leaning to the left so he could rest his elbow on the table.

“We should go do something.”

“Like what?”

“Like a job! You can talk to Ukai, and we can go out on a job!” Tobio merely looked up, not even lifting his head to level with Shouyou as he beamed right in front of him. “Come on!”

“After I finish cleaning my gun.”

Shouyou groaned and fell back on the ground. He laid out on his back, arms and legs spread out, staring up at the ceiling, eyes boring into the light. “Fine,” he said.

  
  


When Tobio started to finally put away his gun, Shouyou got a bit excited. He jumped up to sit up straight and stared at Tobio as he pulled the silver case into his lap. Watching closely, Shouyou leaned toward Tobio with a smile as he packed away the gun and latched the case shut.

“Stop smiling like that.”

“I’m excited!”

“Don’t care.” Tobio stood up with the case, Shouyou standing up with him. He walked over to his desk, setting the case on the ground near it. “Come on. Let’s go talk to Ukai.”

  
  


Tobio and Shouyou headed to Keishin’s office. Before Shouyou could possibly barge in, Tobio was there first, knocking on the door before he heard a soft _‘come in_ ’ on the other side. He stepped in with Shouyou walking in behind him.

“Sir,” Tobio spoke. Keishin looked up from his computer. Tooru was in there as well, sitting on the desk while looking over at the screen. He glanced over at the duo at the door and smiled.

“Tobio,” Tooru spoke. “What’s up?”

“I was wondering if you had a sniper job.”

“Sniper job?” Keishin repeated. H switched tabs on his computer and typed something in, squinting at the screen, a hand on his chin in thought. 

“Actually,” Tooru interrupted, “after this talk with Keishin, I was gonna set up a job that Akaashi wanted to do,” he explained. “You can join in with them.”

Shouyou nodded. “Yeah!” 

“It’s not a sniper job though,” Tooru said while looking to Tobio. “Are you still alright with that?”

“He’ll be fine,” Shouyou said, slapping the gunman on the back. Tobio twitched a little, squinting at Shouyou but not yelling at him for crossing any bounds. “I can teach him some real fieldwork.”Tobio muttered something under his breath, but it wasn’t clear enough for anyone to make out.

“I’ll fax some papers over to you,” Tooru said in a voice loud enough for the room to hear. 

“Thanks, Oikawa!” Shouyou said. He pressed a hand on Tobio’s arm, pushing him toward the door. “Come on, Kageyama.” 

* * *

“That was―” Tooru chewed on his bottom lip, “different.” Keishin raised an eyebrow at him, so he continued. “Tobio has never been the type to pick up a job on his own leisure.” Tooru sat up straight, still sitting on the edge of the desk, and crossed his arms.

“I guess you’re right,” Keishin said with a sigh, and he leaned back in his chair. He repositioned the hairband he always had in his hair to push back the long, blonde bangs. “Kageyama seems to be doing more stuff in general since Hinata. Did you know they were working with each other in the shooting range?”

“Seriously?” Tooru sounded shocked, and he really was. He had known Tobio the entire time he had been here. There was something about him, at first, that made him angry. Maybe it was the other’s determination to get better, or maybe it was the fact that he was, in total, better than Tooru. There were things Tooru bested Tobio at but overall, Tobio had him beat. That was probably what made him so furious with him. The fact that Tobio was asking him for advice. A few years after asking and Tobio had stopped. He grew to himself, never asked anyone anything, worked solo most of the time.

“Hinata Shouyou,” Tooru muttered under his breath. “His past file is locked,” he said. “What’s up with that?”

Keishin shrugged. “Not even I know.” He sighed. “I’m sure one of the others know.” 

“Yeah,” Tooru nodded, though he was still extremely curious. 

“Anyway, back to what we were talking about,” Keishin began.

* * *

Atsumu sat in the lounge room enjoying the fatty tuna his brother had made for him. His legs were crisscrossed, the plate sat in his lap, a magazine on the couch in front of him. He flipped through it, wondering if he should head to the mall on his day off and invest in the new clothes he was seeing. That was until the door opened and took his attention. Kiyoomi stepped in, looking at him as he closed the door behind him.

“Sendin’ me mixed signals, Omi,” he said with a cocky smile. “Whatcha need?”

“Everything about what you said was true, right?” Kiyoomi skipped right to the question, and he walked near the couch. He crossed his arms and leaned on the back of it, staring down at Atsumu.

The twin lost his smile and looked back down at the magazine. “Yup. Why lie?”

“I want to help you.” 

Atsumu looked back to Kiyoomi. The other stared at the wall in front of him now as if he didn’t want to see Atsumu’s raised eyebrow. “Ya wanna what now?”

“You want revenge, right?” Kiyoomi glanced back to Atsumu who nodded slowly. He planned on getting revenge the moment his twin gave him the go-to. “Then I want to help.”

“Why?”

“I know a thing or two about wanting to get revenge.” 

Atsumu’s interest peaked. He closed the magazine and tossed it on the coffee table. Sitting up straighter, he moved back on the couch so there was more room. “Sit. Do tell.” It took Kiyoomi a minute, staring between Atsumu and the couch as if he didn’t want to sit there ― probably because there were too many people that had sat there before. Eventually, he sighed, taking a seat on the other side of the couch. He didn’t let his back touch it, keeping it stiff like a board, hands in his pockets.

Kiyoomi sighed before he started. “My family flew around a lot for assassin-related work. We just―” he looked up at the ceiling, biting his lip a little. “We gained a lot of enemies. That’s it, long story short. There’s not much more to it.”

Atsumu nodded. “Understandable. So ya know a lot ‘bout wantin’ revenge.” He smiled a bit. “‘Lright. I’ll let ya help me.” Atsumu stood up and stretched. “Come on. I was gonna look into more ‘bout them.”

* * *

“Is Atsumu going to be okay?” 

Osamu glanced over at the armorer walking next to her. They were on their way out to their car, Osamu carrying a small box filled with some food he had prepared just before he was forced to leave the kitchen. "'Tsumu?” Osamu raised an eyebrow and then dropped it. “I'm not actually sure this time,” he said through a sigh. “Usually, he’s pretty good at not doin’ what I say to not do, or not doin’ somethin’ he knows I wouldn’t like.” He held the box in one hand, which Hitoka grabbed from him without a word, and he pulled the car keys from his pocket. “Not like I can blame him for finally breakin’. I knew it’d happen sometime.” 

Hitoka smiled, though it was kind of sad, like if there was some amount of pity in there mixed with reassurance. Which worked. Hitoka’s smile always made Osamu feel calm. Good thing she smiled a lot. It was gorgeous. “I’m sure he’ll be okay.”

“Revenge is never good though.”

Hitoka sighed. “Yeah, you’re right, but maybe it’ll give him some closure, something that he can move past.”

“Yer right,” Osamu said. He placed a hand on her head, moving in and pressing a kiss to her temple. She closed her eyes and smiled. “Yer always right. Come on, let’s get. I’m starvin’.”

* * *

It didn’t take Koutarou that long to get back to Keiji in his office. He opened the door with a smile on his face and draped himself over the couch to look at Keiji. The assassin lowered his book and made eye contact with the excited, yellow eyes. 

“Yes?” Keiji asked.

“I got people!”

“Who?”

“‘Tsum-Tsum and Sakusa! They said they’d join.” He frowned. “Though they seemed busy with something but that doesn’t matter! They said they’d help,” Koutarou explained quickly. “And then Kuroo, Kageyama, and Hinata.”

“Kageyama?” Keiji asked as he raised his eyebrow. “How did you manage Kageyama?”

Koutarou shrugged. “He was with Hinata, and Hinata convinced him.”

“Mhm,” Keiji hummed in thought. He sighed. “Okay, I’ll go talk with Yaku, and then we can get ready to leave.”

“Yaku?”

“He has something we need for it,” Keiji explained as he stood and stretched. His hand reached under his shirt, scratching his stomach as he ran his fingers through his hair. He caught Koutarou staring and paused. “What?”

“Nothing,” Koutarou muttered. “Nothing, I’m gonna go get ready. I’ll let ‘Tsum and Sakusa know!” Koutarou left the room again, and Keiji yawned.

_‘Weirdo.’_

* * *

The building that was their office was fairly big. Tetsurou was a hundred percent positive he hadn’t been everywhere in the building, and call the tall cat curious but something about that made him want to walk around and get lost.

He wandered around to the more training area of the building going past the armory where he hadn’t gone before. Every time he’d pass a room, he’d peek his head in. There were a few training rooms, Tetsurou was pretty sure he saw a spa room (he’d come back later, for sure), a computer lab which was filled with large computer setups and a large screen ― he was pretty sure that was going to be Kiyoomi’s new domain if he continued to work in communications. Though the room he stopped completely at was one that actually had people in it and a person that Tetsurou knew.

Tetsurou stepped into the room, making his entrance known. “Sup,” he called out, walking up to a large table set up in the middle of the room. There was a bunch of stuff scattered across the top of it, gadgets, pieces that Tetsurou would guess would belong to a computer, tools, large and small scrap metal pieces. “What are you doing?”

Morisuke looked up from the small, metal box in his lap, stopping the twisting and turning of his screwdriver. Tetsurou hadn’t seen it, but he had earbuds in. The weapon artist pulled them from his ears. “Huh?” Morisuke looked around, the other people in the room not even acknowledging Tetsurou coming in the room. He sighed. “What are you doing here?”

“I was getting lost before I had to leave with Bokuto and some others for a job.”

“Why?”

“Feel like it.” Tetsurou pulled up a chair, sitting in it backward, folding his arms and resting them on the back of the chair. “What are you doing?” He asked again.

Morisuke sighed. “Working on a new weapon. What do you want?”

“I’m bored,” Tetsurou said with a shrug of his shoulders. “Entertain me.”

“I’m not here for your enjoyment.”

“You could be.”

“Go away."

“Teach me what you’re doing.”

Morisuke glared. “Why should I?”

“Because why not?” Morisuke kept staring at Tetsurou, squinting his eyes slightly. It seemed like he was considering, especially when he bit his lip and looked down at the box in his hands. His fingers drummed on the sides in thought. “After I get back,” Tetsurou started, “or tomorrow. I’ll probably be too tired or something. Teach me.”

Morisuke let out a sigh. “Fine.”

* * *

It wasn’t like Issei had been there for long. Maybe it had been a few hours, though he wasn't completely sure. He had kind of lost track of how long he had been sitting there for. While he did, he rocked back and forth, leaned on his knees. He wasn’t scared. It was more of the scared look in Takahiro’s eyes that made him worry.

“I think you should get some rest.” Issei’s back snapped up straight. He looked toward the door. Akinori stood there, a clipboard in a hand, the other hand stuffed in his pocket while he glared at Issei.

“I’m fine,” Issei responded. He glanced back to Takahiro’s sleeping face. It looked soft like he wasn’t in pain. There was a twitch or two he would give that would always concern Issei a little until he thought of before when he learned that it was normal. 

“You promised him you’d be here when he woke up. You can’t do that if you’re passed out from exhaustion.”

“Just―” Issei sighed. “Tell me about his condition.” 

Akinori sighed. He stepped into the room and walked to the other side of the bed that Issei sat on. Staring down at the clipboard, Akinori looked between the papers and the beeping machine Takahiro was hooked up to. He clicked some buttons, checking the board every few clicks. “He’s doing fine ― better than the other reports on when he’s been unconscious, actually.” Akinori glanced over at Issei. “Usually, when he’s sleeping, his heart rate will go up and down, sometimes his breathing stopped actually, but now, with the medication I gave him, he’s sleeping as every other person does.” Akinori glanced back to his clipboard and grabbed a pen from his white coat pocket. He scribbled something down. “I mean, I had to give him a _way_ higher dose than I had given Hinata but it works.”

“When do you think he’s gonna wake up?”

“Honestly? Since he just got sleep before this, maybe a few hours.”

“Really?”

Akinori nodded. “Yeah, since he slept for, like, three to four days before, he wasn’t actually, what he would consider, tired when we knocked him out.” Akinori slipped the pen back in his pocket and headed for the door. “I still think you should get a quick nap in before he wakes up.” Issei nodded, and Akinori slipped from the room, softly closing the door behind him.

He still looked at Takahiro, watching the soft rise and fall of his chest. His face seemed a little red over his cheeks. Issei wondered if that was a bad thing. Maybe he was getting overheated, but Akinori had said he was fine. Issei grabbed the blanket, tugging it down a little bit to get Takahiro some air. He sighed, grinding his teeth together slightly. A nap was a good idea but Issei couldn’t pull himself to leave Takahiro’s side.

* * *

With nothing to do, Hajime wandered the halls of the building. It wasn’t any different from the other organization he came from; there were a lot of times where he would be sitting, waiting for a job from his boss. He thought maybe it would be a bit different now that he switched over to another location, but it didn’t seem like it was with all the waiting around. Or maybe it was because when Hajime entered the office of a working co-worker, he found them already getting another job prepared. 

Hajime didn’t bother knocking, instead, he walked right in, stood in front of the other’s desk, and squinted at the paper they were writing on. “What are you doing?” He asked.

The taller one looked up from his paper, his back straightening out when he made eye contact with Hajime's green eyes. “Iwa,” he said. “When did you walk in?” Hajime shrugged, and he pointed to the paper this time. Tooru looked down at it. “Oh, just another job.”

“Already?” Hajime raised an eyebrow. Tooru nodded and stared back down at the paper. He twirled a pen around his fingers, squinting at the lines. “Are you guys always that quick?”

Tooru chuckled. “Actually, we’re kind of slow, considering Makki decided to finally try a new medication.”

“What do you mean?” 

“Well, we made Makki work part-time in the field basically.” Tooru leaned back in his chair and dropped his pen. He tilted his head back, staring up at the ceiling with a sigh. “Usually, after he sleeps, he can go out on a few jobs, but Mattsun convinced him to try a new medication again, so we're going a bit longer without him than we usually do.” He snapped his head to Hajime. “What is up with them, by the way? Does Mattsun always have that effect on people?”

“Does Hanamaki always have _that_ effect on people?”

“Is Mattsun usually different?”

“You see him act that way with other people?” Hajime scoffed and turned around, sitting on Tooru’s desk. He crossed his arms. “Matsukawa has a past that makes him pretty reserved, kept to himself ― much like Sakusa. That’s why they get along well, they both hate opening up to others.” Hajime gave a little shrug. “I mean, we all hate opening up about our pasts considering we’re all pretty fucked up but you get what I mean.” 

Tooru nodded. “Though,” he began, “what’s Mattsun’s past?”

“Long story short of what I can say, traumatizing parents.”

Tooru slowly nodded to show he understood. “Sakusa’s?” He asked.

“Not really fucked up. He just had to survive through traveling a lot, picked up on things.”

“Like, what?”

“Mysophobia? That’s one.”

“You’re kidding,” Tooru mumbled. “No wonder he seems so distant.”

Hajime nodded. “Yup, and he trusts that Matsukawa can keep clean. They’ve always been pretty buddy-buddy, though Matsukawa has only really been that close with Sakusa. Me sometimes even, but I’ve never really seen him joke around like the way he does around Hanamaki.” Tooru hummed, biting his lip. Maybe it could be the change that Takahiro needed, Tooru hoped. “Anyway, what’s this next job?” Hajime asked.

“Huh?” Tooru blinked a few times at the paper. “Oh,” he said. “Yeah, Akaashi found something and said he wanted to do it, so I’m just getting it setup.”

“Really?”

Tooru nodded, and he slid the paper over to Hajime. “Yeah, have a read.” Hajime picked up the paper and skimmed with his eyes. As he would’ve expected, Tooru’s handwriting was gorgeous, the cursive writing smooth, connected, and not too impossible to read. 

“Mhm,” Hajime hummed. “Guessing you don’t need a sniper,” he muttered.

Tooru scoffed, a slight chuckle. “No, sorry.”

“So you’re free as well?” Tooru looked up from his keyboard and slowly nodded. “Coffee again?” Hajime asked while picking up a pen. “My treat.” Tooru bit back a smile and looked at his screen, avoiding the eye contact that made him feel his stomach do a turn.

“Yeah, sure. Let me send them off and we can go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Twitter @mattsuhana


	15. There's Atsumu's distraction to thank

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bokuto, Akaashi, Atsumu, Sakusa, Kuroo, Hinata, and Kageyama on a job. What goes on

**MAR. 11**

“You all remember the plan?” Tooru asked. The seven stood outside ready to leave. Tooru was out front with them to make sure they all had the information they needed.

“Yes, stunnin’ man Oikawa Tooru, the most beautiful man we hafta report to ‘cause we don’t hafta report to Akaashi.”

“Could you not, like, backhand compliment me, ‘Tsumu?” Tooru asked while turning his head, a fake smile on his face.

“We’ll see,” Atsumu said with a shrug. Tooru sighed. The twin gave him a childish smile. He looked over at Kiyoomi who had stayed standing next to him, staring off at the ground with his hands dug in his pocket. Atsumu raised an eyebrow at him, but he shook it off and looked back to Tooru.

“Anyway, Sakusa, you know where to head?" Tooru asked Kiyoomi. "Around the corner to the left, there’s a van. Inside is the equipment. You should go to get accustomed to the setup, fix anything to your liking before you head to the job.” 

Kiyoomi nodded. “I’ll go then.” He started to leave but Atsumu grabbed his arm. 

“Be careful,” the twin whispered to him.

“ _You_ be careful.” Atsumu nodded and let go of him, apologizing quietly under his breath. Kiyoomi stared at him for a few seconds before walking off. 

  
  


“Hinata and Akaashi are the main jobs of this mission,” Tooru reminded them. “They have the most important task,” he added. “If there are guards, it’s Sho’s job to sneak past. If there aren’t, it’s Akaashi’s.” Keiji and Shouyou nodded. “Which is why we have Bokuto and Kageyama as ‘bodyguards’ to them.” Koutarou nodded, and Tobio just blinked a few times. 

“And Kuroo and Atsumu?” Keiji asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Helping you and Sho. There’s a lot of people in there.” Tooru let out a sigh. “More than I think you’ve tried to sneak your way around, Akaashi.” Keiji swallowed his tongue. He really didn’t like how difficult people were making this job sound. Keiji felt a hand grab his, and he looked over. Koutarou was there, and he squeezed his hand, smiling at him. Keiji took a deep breath and gave a small smile back. “Alright,” Tooru said. “Get going. You don’t want to be late.”

* * *

They all headed into the building, first taking in the large number of people in the room. Just like Tooru had said, there were a lot more people than Keiji had ever had to deal with. He was a little scared to be sneaking around with this many eyes in the room; no wonder Tooru had Atsumu and Tetsurou working too to help distract people.

“Hinata,” Keiji whispered. Shouyou’s attention went straight to him. He moved closer to him, turning his head in question. “Have you ever worked around groups this large before?”

Shouyou shook his head. “Nope! But I’m sure it’ll be fine.” He looked back at Tobio and elbowed him in the chest. “Right, Kageyama?”

“What?” Tobio mumbled. “Shut up.” It was weird, him being out in the field like this, but they all assumed that Shouyou would take him under his wing and Tobio wouldn’t talk, just listen and watch the pro that was Hinata Shouyou.

Shouyou rolled his eyes. “We can do it, Akaashi.” Keiji chewed his lip and looked around, standing a little on his toes to take a look over the sea of strangers in suits and dresses around them.

With a map that sketched the whole map of the building, they knew where the room was that Keiji and Shouyou had to find. After a little bit of looking around, they could find what hallway they needed to head down. They walked over to where they needed to go, standing near the entryway of the location marked on the map. 

“No guards, Hinata,” Keiji said.

Shouyou nodded. “Looks like this is your job then.” He looked around again, standing on his toes to look around, hand on Tobio’s shoulder to boost him up a little as if it would help. Tobio made a scowling face at him, but he didn’t make any attempt to push him off. “Kageyama and I will head over there, I see some guards that might look this way. I’ll distract them for you.”

“Thanks.”

“No problem!” Shouyou grabbed Tobio’s arm and started to pull him in the direction of the guards he mentioned. “Come on, Kageyama.”

“Don’t pull on me. I can walk, dumbass.”

* * *

Distracting was nothing but a simple game to Shouyou. He did it perfectly, and with such ease that it made Tobio feel intimidated ― not that he would ever admit he was intimidated by the shrimp. He stayed back as he watched Shouyou, the way that he walked up to a guard without a problem and slid into a conversation with them, grabbing their attention as if he was a shining, blinking, bright light. Their attention was all to Shouyou as if the manipulator snapped his fingers to a bunch of dogs and they came running to him. How could Tobio not be impressed? He was a sniper with the communication skills of about five, he hated talking to people and conversing. Everything he did was an effort to get out of being social. 

Tobio felt a small fire in him, but he wasn’t sure what it was about. The flames were fed when Shouyou had wrapped an arm around one of the guards' shoulders, laughing as he talked their ears off. What was that? Jealously? 

Tobio wasn’t sure.

* * *

“How long do we have to pretend to be here normally until we can slip down that hallway?” Koutarou asked. They had been standing there while waiting for an opportunity. About an _hour_ had passed, and Keiji was getting a little frustrated. It wasn’t that it was hard to sneak down the hallway. Keiji was just someone who wanted to make sure a hundred percent no one would see him, though there were so many people there that someone was bound to see them.

“Well,” Keiji said as he looked over Koutarou’s shoulder to see if anyone behind them was looking. He leaned on him a little, hand moving to Koutarou’s shoulder. “Technically, we could go anytime, but there are too many eyes. Someone would see if we went now.” He hit his head on Koutarou’s shoulder and let out a frustrated groan. “Goddammit.”

“Hey, hey, it’s alright.” Koutarou’s fingers threaded through Keiji’s hair. “We just need―” Koutarou looked around. “That’s it.” 

Keiji looked up, eyes looking up at Koutarou. “What is?” He asked, watching as Koutarou tapped onto his earpiece. 

“Hey, Atsumu?”

_“Mhm?”_ Came an immediate response in a hum from the Accent.

“Think you can make a distraction on the other side of the room?”

_“Sure, Bo. Whaddya need?”_

“Something to get everyone’s attention.”

_“On it.”_

It wasn’t too long that there was a big bang on the other side of the room.

  
  


Keiji really wanted to see what Atsumu had done, but before he knew it, he was being dragged by the wrist down the hallway and around the corner. When they rounded out of view of the party, Koutarou stopped, and Keiji bumped into him. He backed up, placing his hands on Koutarou’s chest to stop him from completely falling into him, and glanced up at him.

“Good job, Bokuto.” Keiji pulled his phone out and stared down at the map on his screen. He studied it for a few moments, looking up and down to match where he was physically and where he was on the map. Keiji slowly started walking, peeking around another corner to make sure he was right. “This way,” he mumbled and turned down the hallway. Koutarou followed.

After a bit of walking around and following the map, Keiji walked up to a door, jiggling the handle. “Lock pick?” He asked Koutarou.

“Here you are,” Koutarou said while pulling the lock pick from his jacket. Keiji took it from him and grabbed out the tools. He worked quickly, not knowing who would be walking up and down the hallways and when. Obviously, given Keiji’s oddly good lock-picking skills, he got the door open on the first try. Picking simple door handle locks was so easy at this point having around seventeen years of experience. 

As the door swung open, Keiji put the tools back and dropped the small case back in the palm of Koutarou’s hand. They slipped into the room, the door closing behind them. Keiji looked around for a good spot to put the recording device he had gotten from Morisuke. He pulled it from his jacket, and as he spun the device around in his hand, his eyes looked at multiple places.

_‘I could put it under his desk, but someone could accidentally kick it.’_

“‘Kaashi.” Keiji looked over at Koutarou who stared at the top of a wardrobe. “What about up there?”

“That’s actually,” Keiji started to say while biting his lip in thought, “a really good idea.” He walked over to it and reached up, his arms trying to reach the top but failing to do so. 

“Don’t freak out, Akaashi.”

“Freak out from what ― Hey!” Keiji yelled in a whisper. He felt Koutarou place his hands on his waist and lift his feet off the ground. The assassin set him half on his shoulder, half on his chest. He boosted him to reach the top of the wardrobe. “Oh. Thanks, Bokuto.”

“Mhm. You’re light.”

“Shut up.” Keiji flicked the device on and set it in the back at an angle that was impossible to see. Morisuke had designed it small and flat; it perfectly fit in the corner. “Alright, let me down.” Koutarou let Keiji drop, catching him with both arms. He looked at Keiji, a grin on his face. Keiji rolled his eyes. “Put me down, Bokuto.”

“Alright, fine, fine,” Koutarou finally said as he set Keiji down on his own two feet. 

“Thank you. Let’s go.”

* * *

Tetsurou grabbed the paper towel, dabbing it on the suit jacket of the man sitting on the counter in front of him. “I can’t believe you did that,” he said with a chuckle.

“Hey,” Atsumu began, “they said they needed a distraction.” The twin shrugged, watching as Tetsurou tried to clean out the stains from the black cloth. “Just thought that was distraction enough.”

“It definitely was.” Tetsurou tossed the punch-filled paper towel and moved to grab more. He soaked it in hot water before going in yet again to clean up the messy thief. “Hey, how did you know about Sakusa’s problem?”

“Omi?” Atsumu asked. He looked up in thought. “Hm, well, was obvious, fer one.”

“Seriously?” 

Atsumu shrugged. “‘M good at readin’ people. Comes with the job.”

“Mhm,” Tetsurou hummed. “Alright, also, there’s no way in hell that I’m going to be able to get out all of these stains.”

“Eh,” the twin shrugged. “That’s ‘lright. Wasn’t too worried ‘bout it. Got more.”

“This is like a two thousand dollar suit.”

“Nah, this one was only a thousand,” Atsumu said as he hopped down from the counter, holding the lapels out to look down at the damage to the white shirt underneath it. “We should go though, before I get yelled at fer being the one to ‘cause _that_.”

Tetsurou sighed. “Yeah, yeah, let’s get out of here.”

* * *

Keiji and Koutarou left the office, locking and closing the door behind them. They carefully walked down the halls, praying to God no one was wandering them. To their fantastic luck, someone was.

“Hey, what are you two doing down here?” 

Right away, Keiji collapsed which was the only thing he could think to do. Koutarou, by reflexes, caught him. “Hey, Akaashi?” He asked quickly. The man rushed over.

“Sorry,” Keiji said while putting a hand to his forehead, an arm wrapped on Koutarou’s shoulder to help ‘hold him up’. “When I have a little bit too much to drink, I get a little dizzy. We were looking for a room to rest in. Isn’t that right, babe?” Keiji asked Koutarou while looking over at him. 

Finally, Koutarou understood what was happening. He looked at the guy, nodding his head. “Yeah, you wouldn’t happen to know a place where he could rest?” Koutarou asked, playing along with the act. 

The man nodded quickly. He started heading down the hall where he came from and where Koutarou and Keiji were headed. “Yes, follow me.”

  
  


It was a door further down that was closer to the party. They could faintly hear the light music that was softly playing in the room people were left to chat and eat in. It was probably just around the corner. He opened a door and held it open for the two to walk in. Koutarou played his part beautifully, hands staying on Keiji in a way that looked like he was the only thing keeping him on his two feet. He slowly and carefully guided Keiji to sit at the foot of a bed that sat in the room.

“Thank you,” Keiji quietly while keeping a palm pressed to his forehead to simulate a headache. 

“Just please shut the door and turn the lights off before you leave,” the man who helped them spoke. Koutarou nodded, and the man left the room, the door closing behind him. 

  
  


Keiji grabbed out his phone from his pocket, starting to play on it a little bit in order to pass time. They did need to stay there a while in order to pretend something was wrong. 

“Hey, Akaashi?”

“Mhm?”

“You should owe me something for playing along there without warning.” Keiji looked up to Koutarou who was leaning against the wall by the door. 

“I should owe you something for you doing your job?”

Koutarou was silent for a few moments. “Yes?” He said hesitantly. It was more like a question than anything.

Keiji laughed a little. “Like, what?”

“A kiss.”

“You’re shitting me.” Keiji scoffed. “Why?”

Koutarou shrugged. “Why not?” Keiji sighed. He walked over, stopping to stand right in front of Koutarou. Koutarou blinked a few times, and Keiji reached up and grabbed Koutarou's cheeks, lips moving close as he placed a quick, two-second kiss against Koutarou’s soft, warm lips. The owl didn’t even have enough time to put his hands on the other's waist before Keiji was already pulling away, hand moving to grab the door handle.

“Aw, come on,” Koutarou whined, stopping Keiji from moving by lightly grabbing a hold of his wrist. “I deserve a little bit more than that.” Keiji bit his lip to stop the smile on his face, and he thought about it. With another sigh, he reached up once again, this time his hand on Koutarou’s shoulder as he gave Koutarou a much longer kiss. Koutarou’s hand went to the back of Keiji’s head, fingers threading through the black, soft, curly hair. 

“Ready now?” Keiji asked, slipping from Koutarou and getting to the door. He twisted the door handle, swinging the door open without any interruptions that time. Koutarou nodded, but he was frowning. 

Keiji just rolled his eyes. _‘I can’t believe myself.’_

  
  


Keiji and Koutarou left down the hallway back to the main room. They looked around trying to find Atsumu, or Tetsurou, or Shouyou, or Tobio ― any one of those idiots, honestly. 

“Hey, are you two alright now?” Keiji and Koutarou turned. There stood the man from earlier who had escorted them to the room.

“Mhm. Thank you very much,” Keiji replied. As Keiji spoke to the man, Koutarou grabbed his hand, fingers slipping in between Keiji’s. He looked over at him, but Koutarou only smiled.

“Glad I could help.” Keiji nodded and the man went on his way. 

  
  


He looked over at Koutarou. “Why’d you grab my hand, and why are you still holding my hand?”

“Well,” Koutarou started to say, “we’re _married_ , right? Which means I can also do this―“ Koutarou leaned in, lips pecking a quick kiss to his cheek. 

Keiji felt himself smiling, and he bit it back again. “Guess it means you can,” he mumbled quietly. “Come on,” Keiji spoke up. “Let’s find someone else.”

  
  


They wandered around while searching for their groupmate. The bluetooths connected four people each, two groups. Koutarou, Atsumu, and Tobio then Keiji, Tetsurou, and Shouyou. Kiyoomi was connected to all of them, able to tune in and out to the groups on his own will. There was a small button they could click that would link them to Kiyoomi if they wanted to get his attention first. Despite them having easy communications with each other, Koutarou wanted to find everyone like a hunt, and Keiji was pretty sure it was just because he wanted to roam around the party for a bit since he never got the chance.

After a few minutes of walking around, Keiji kind of getting tired of walking, he finally spotted Shouyou. He stood near the drink table, Shouyou tucking a strand of hair behind his ear like a flustered teenager while talking with some guy. They made their way over to him, Keiji tugging Koutarou along by the sleeve. He put his hand on his shoulder when they reached Shouyou which made him jump a little. 

“Hey, we’re leaving,” Keiji spoke to him.

“Wha―oh, shit, alright.” Shouyou turned to the man, putting a smile on his face. “Sorry. Excuse me.” Shouyou turned from the guy and they started to walk out to the front doors. “You got it?” Keiji nodded. “Why didn’t you say something in the bluetooth? That’s what they’re for.”

“Bokuto wanted to roam around the party before we left.”

“You knew that was why?” Koutarou mumbled. Keiji bit his tongue back to hide a laugh, and he nodded. “Damn, I thought I was being clever with my excuse.”

“Yeah, _‘Akaashi, let’s go on a hunt for them’_ is a really good excuse,” Keiji said with a smile. Koutarou only frowned in defeat, walking off and heading to the doors to leave. He turned back to Shouyou. “Where’s Kageyama?”

Shouyou shrugged. “I sent him back, he seemed off, like something was wrong.” Keiji frowned, trying to think of what had been wrong with the gunman. Probably being surrounded by so many people. 

* * *

When they got back to the building, Tooru had Keiji explain to him what happened. Morisuke joined in the listen as well just to hear how everything went. Tooru sat at his desk, writing the report for Keiji as payment for getting to know directly what happened. Tooru loved being on top of things. He wanted desperately to be back in the field, and getting a primary account of the event was the next best thing. 

Morisuke sat on Tooru’s counter that he had put in his office, Keiji was in the bathroom with the door open wiping some makeup off his face. He had a base of foundation down to brighten his face as if he needed it. 

“We finally slipped into the back after like an hour from a distraction idea that Bokuto came up with.” He pulled the sleeves off, tossing the jacket to the bathroom floor.

“Is that when Atsumu jumped on the table?” Tooru asked.

“That’s what he did?” 

Tooru nodded. Morisuke snickered. Atsumu had come back and told them vaguely that he had pulled a stupid stunt which he described as _‘table diving.’_

“Of course, he did that.” Keiji sighed as he unbuttoned his shirt. “Anyway, we got to the back, found the room, Bokuto boosted me up to set the recorder on top of a wardrobe in his room, and we left.” He tossed the dress shirt aside and grabbed the sweater that sat on the counter. “After that, we got caught in the hallway. I started using that faint tactic, and Bokuto was quick and caught on. Blah, blah, blah, we got back and left.”

“Sounds like you're missing on telling us stuff,” Tooru said. 

“Yeah, Akaashi.” Morisuke crossed his arms. “What was all the _‘blah, blah, blah’_?” Keiji pulled the jeans up and didn’t reply. “Akaashi.” Keiji smoothed out the sweater as he came out of the bathroom.

“What?”

“We know you’re not telling us something.” Keiji nodded only because he _hated_ lying. “So tell us.” He shook his head while plopping himself down on the couch. “Why not?”

“It’s not important.” Keiji reached on the coffee table and turned on the TV. 

“Seems important,” the bomber muttered.

“It’s not," Keiji said. Morisuke and Tooru looked at each other for a bit, questioning if they should push him any further. It wasn’t often that Morisuke and Tooru agreed on something. It was mainly Morisuke making fun of Tooru, but they were able to come to the mutual understanding with just eye communication that they'd let it go. For the moment. 

Tooru sighed. “Fine. We’ll get it out of you later,” he said.

“Sure you will.”

* * *

Keiji stepped out of the showers, ruffling his second towel through his damp, black hair. He glanced up into the room leading out of the shower into the locker room, watching as Koutarou pulled a shirt over his head. The assassin felt a shiver down his spine, staring at all the scars on Koutarou’s back. One very distinct one crossed from his right shoulder to his left hip. Keiji was a bit curious about the story behind that. He cleared his throat to himself to snap himself out of his trance and headed into the locker room to get changed as well.

A large sigh came from Koutarou as Keiji reached his locker, opening it and pulling out a duffle bag. “Man,” Koutarou said. “I’m starving. Are you hungry, Akaashi?” Koutarou asked while glancing over. Keiji stopped his hand from digging around in his bag. He looked up at Koutarou and then blinked a few times before looking back at his bag to properly find what he was searching for.

“A little, I guess. We can get you some food from the kitchen before we leave.”

“Really?” Koutarou asked. Keiji nodded, pulling a navy sweater from his bag. “Awesome.”

  
  


Koutarou and Keiji, both dressed in warm clothes, sweaters and sweats, headed down the hallway. They made their way to the kitchen in silence, both of them a little tired and just enough to make them too sleepy to talk while walking. Keiji had Koutarou’s bag on his back plus his own duffle. He made Koutarou give him his bag to carry considering he didn’t want to weigh Koutarou down on his injuries more than he was already doing so just by walking around. Walking all day during that job probably didn’t do his healing process much good.

They reached the doors of the kitchen, and Koutarou tried to open the door but failed. He jiggled the handle once, twice, thrice until he frowned and turned to Keiji. “It’s locked,” he pouted.

Keiji chuckled. “Here,” he said. Keiji pulled out his own set of keys from his back pocket and found the right one, unlocking the door and pushing it open. “Osamu must’ve gone home already.”

“How’d you get a key?”

“Ukai trusts me,” Keiji said with a shrug. “Master key.”

  
  


Keiji knew the rules of the kitchen: move anything into an incorrect spot, Osamu has your head when he figures out. 

“Be careful,” Keiji warned. The thought of Osamu seeing something moved in a spot he didn’t like was bolted in the back of his head. Koutarou would definitely not see tomorrow. “Don’t move anything too drastically.”

“‘Samu probably doesn’t like that, does he?” Koutarou asked, already bouncing to open cupboards and check inside. 

Keiji shook his head. “Not one bit.” He walked up behind Koutarou, peering over his shoulder to see what he found. “Let’s just make you a quick sandwich for the ride home, and then I’ll cook you something when we get home.” 

Koutarou turned, a jar of peanut butter in his head. He raised an eyebrow. “You’re coming over again?” He asked. Keiji froze. He didn’t really think of it. The assassin was so used to going over to Koutarou’s from the small lessons he’d give him to taking care of his injuries for him that he realized, _‘Fuck, I don’t_ live _at Bokuto’s.’_

“Well,” Keiji mumbled quietly, and he felt heat rise to his face in embarrassment. “I was just―you’re still―” Keiji tried to excuse through his stuttering. Koutarou laughed, and the assassin bit his lip, shutting up right away, more redness showing across his cheeks.

“Akaashi, you’re really cute, you know that?”

“What?” Keiji’s eyes widened. He looked up. His hands found each other, and his fingers fumbled. “Don’t say stuff like that.” 

“It’s true though,” Koutarou said, a wide smile across his face. He reached out, a hand cupping Keiji’s right cheek. “Look, you’re blushing.” Keiji’s hand lightly swatted Koutarou’s away, but his fingers lightly held his wrist for a few seconds before he let his hand drop.

“Shut up. How do you expect me to look at my own face.” He grabbed the jar of peanut butter from Koutarou and quickly turned, putting his back to Koutarou. Clapping a hand over his cheek, Keiji let out a quiet, deep breath. “It’s not my fault you’re saying embarrassing things.” Keiji sighed. Koutarou was about to say something, but Keiji was quicker. “I’ll make you a sandwich, just bring the bags to the car and start it, or something.”

  
Koutarou nodded, grabbing the bags from Keiji. “Thanks, ‘Kaashi!” He left out of the room, the door shutting behind him.

Once Keiji was alone, he set down the jar and planted his hands on the counter. He took a deep breath and let out a long, heavy sigh.

_‘Fuck.’_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Twitter @mattsuhana


	16. Four sets of two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A new job /again/ because that's a lot of this fic what do you expect

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IM GETTING LAZY WITH THE SUMMARIES PLEASE they're so hard

**MAR. 15**

Eight people surrounded the meeting room table, all of them but one was uninformed on the job they had to do. Keishin stepped into the room, holding a stack of papers as he always did when he was ready to explain a job. His eyes skimmed over the paper as he stepped up to the small podium in the room, the eyes of his subordinates on him. He let out a sigh, dropping the papers on the stand in front of him before finally meeting eyes with the eight other people one by one.

“Oikawa, thanks for getting everyone.”

“Of course,” Tooru said with a nod, leaned back in his chair. His eyes taking a glance over at Hajime. They had gone out for coffee a few nights ago which turned out after only half a cup of coffee. Both of them got bored with the caffeine and headed to some local bar. That was a whole other night Tooru did not expect, which he told to Keiji, Atsumu, and Takahiro the day after.

Speaking of Takahiro, he was awake and more energized than ever. It seemed he was glowing in his chair as he sat on the edge of it, clearly excited. Everyone was pretty happy with how the drug worked out. Takahiro woke up completely fine so much to the point where he thought it was a dream. It took everyone around an hour to get Takahiro to realize, _‘No, Hanamaki, you are awake right now’, ‘Yes, this is actually happening’, ‘Hanamaki, stop pinching yourself! This is real!’_

Even though it had been a few days, Takahiro still wasn’t sleeping normally, but it would take a bit to get into, of course. Issei was a little against the idea of sending Takahiro on a job already, but Takahiro, full of excitement, covered the other's mouth before he could argue and agreed when Tooru had asked him. So in the room sat Tooru, Hajime, Takahiro, Issei, Kiyoomi, Atsumu, Tobio, and Shouyou.

  
  


“Let’s get this over with quickly,” Keishin started. “It’s a simple assassin mission. Each of you has a target you need to take out without suspicion or getting caught. There are a lot of other people there, don’t let them know your real purpose for being there.” They all nodded in understanding. “With the help of Oikawa,” Keishin continued, “I’ve made the teams.”

“Teams?” Takahiro asked. “Teams. Fun.”

“Hanamaki, please.”

“Sorry,” he muttered under his breath. Takahiro fully energized seemed like a kid with ADHD. If you were asking someone like Tooru, someone who had known him a long time, he was pretty sure he did have ADHD but the abnormal sleeping patterns hid it. “Continue, King.”

Keishin sighed. He looked down at the paper again. “Thank you. So we have Hinata and Hanamaki.” 

Shouyou looked over at Takahiro and smiled, Takahiro giving him a grin back with the light lift of his chin. Takahiro was a bit disappointed he wouldn’t get to work with Issei as a team, but there was nothing he could do about it. 

“Second team is Iwaizumi and Kageyama.” 

Tobio glanced over at Hajime whose lip curved in the corner when they made eye contact. It was a weird team considering both of them were skilled in the same thing, so it was kind of hard to combine talent and work with something considering they couldn’t cover each other’s weaknesses since they had the same weaknesses.

“Third team is Atsumu and Matsukawa.”

“Wack,” Atsumu said while looking over at Issei. They made eye contact. Atsumu grinned cockily. Issei had never worked with Atsumu before, besides when he talked with him when he was dealing with Takahiro being knocked unconscious.

  
  


Issei leaned toward Takahiro a little, his chin only an inch or two away from sitting on his shoulder, his breath hitting his cheek.

“Atsumu?” He asked in a whisper.

Takahiro didn’t look at Issei, but he shrugged. “You get used to him,” he replied.

  
  


Keishin continued. “Which leaves Oikawa and Sakusa.”

Kiyoomi didn’t have a reaction, and Tooru, already knowing the teams, didn’t react either. He just took a mere glance at Kiyoomi and moved his attention back to Keishin. 

“I would’ve brought Akaashi and Bokuto but Akaashi is taking care of Bokuto."

“Didn’t Bokuto go on a job a few days ago, like right after he woke up?” Atsumu asked.

“Yeah,” Keishin sighed, “but he walked around a lot, and I’d prefer him to rest.” He straightened out the paper in front of him. “You’ll be fine without him. I planned to have Yaku, too, but it seems he’s busy,” Keishin added and bit his lip.

“And Kuroo?” Issei asked.

“He’s busy _with_ Yaku.”

“Those implications are off,” Atsumu muttered under his breath to Tooru who sat to his left. He cleared his throat and spoke up more, “and whaddya mean _‘with Yaku’_. Last time I checked, Yakkun doesn’t like workin’ with anyone.”

“I was surprised too,” Keishin said with a sigh. “Apparently, he’s teaching him about bombs?” Tooru, Takahiro, and Atsumu all looked at each other, exchanging glances. Even Tobio joined in on a weird look. 

“Sure,” Takahiro said with a smirk.

“Yeah,” Atsumu said. “Teachin’ him.”

Tooru chuckled. “About bombs.”

“Guys,” Keishin said. “Shut up.” 

The three frowned but listened. 

“You have three hours before you have to leave or you’re going to be late. With the teams, I suggest you get together a strategy to help each other carry out your jobs.” Keishin picked up the papers and dropped them on the table. “Good luck.”

* * *

“That’s fine with me,” Takahiro said, leaning back in his chair, kicking his feet up on the table. After an hour of discussing strategy, they all came to a conclusion on what they wanted to do. “I’m game, I’m ready.”

“Great,” Tooru said. “We have an hour to get changed and ready then?”

“Are you sure you’re ready to go back into fighting, Oikawa?” Takahiro asked while leaning on the table.

“Says the one who just woke up from a two-day coma and then got knocked out _again_.”

“Touché,” Takahiro muttered quietly. Issei snickered next to him, earning him an elbow to the gut.

“Who wants to go get the weapons?” Tooru moved on, smiling to himself because _‘Damn, he actually shut Hanamaki up.’_

“I can,” Shouyou spoke up. 

“I’ll go with ‘im,” Atsumu added on, and Shouyou looked over at him and smiled.

“Perfect, just make sure you have enough time to get ready,” Tooru said. 

  
  


“Since when did Oikawa become _‘King Negotiator’,_ ” Takahiro muttered under his breath on their way to the locker rooms. Issei laughed. Takahiro glared at him. “What? You seem too happy. Stop that.”

“My deepest apologies,” Issei said. Takahiro rolled his eyes, holding back a smile. He did that a lot with Issei. “It’s just funny that Oikawa shut you up.”

“‘Mkay, definitely not talking to you anymore today. Go find new friends.”

“Aw, you admit we’re friends.” 

Takahiro stepped down on his foot. “Shut up.”

Issei chuckled. “Sorry.” 

* * *

They all didn’t enter at the same time. That would look too suspicious. The first pair to enter the building was Takahiro and Shouyou, walking straight through the doors with fake smiles on their faces as they walked past the guards. They would all forever wonder how Keishin was able to get them into these events, maybe an insider that was able to slip their appearances on a guest list or something. At first glance, he seemed like a lazy boss, but he was actually really good that it was scary.

  
  


The two entered and looked around. Behind their eyelids, it was as if they burned the images of their target's faces.

“Remember the plan?” Shouyou asked.

Takahiro scoffed. “You’re asking me that?” He chuckled and patted a hand on Shouyou’s back. “Go on and do your flirt thing, dude.”

  
  


* * *

Hajime was next without Tobio. The pro gunman wasn’t very good at social skills, and they weren’t about to have a quick lesson of how to act for a job that was so serious especially when they didn’t have to. Instead, Tobio positioned himself up in the trees, waiting outside near a balcony meaning that Hajime went in alone, checking around for his _and_ Tobio’s target. Theirs happened to be a couple together, which, when they were all coming up with strategies, the two had asked if those two could be their targets considering their plan.

Hajime scanned around the event, easily spotting from across the room the faces he had printed in the back of his mind. There was one extra person standing with them that he had sworn he had seen before but he couldn’t remember. He straightened himself out and took a deep breath. His best bet? Pretending to be someone who was helping host the event. With that, he made his way over. He stole a glass off a small tray carried around by a waiter and nodded at them before focusing on his task at hand. Pushing his way through, Hajime reached the trio and with a fake smile on his face, he clapped a hand on the one man’s shoulder.

“Hey, how are you enjoying the party so far?” He asked. The guy seemed startled as did the women who were accompanying him. It took the guy a moment to register what was happening, but he soon smiled, a snake-like grin on his face that made Hajime’s gut feel wrong.

“It’s nice, thank you,” one of the women spoke up, Hajime’s target. Her voice was soft, chipper, and it caught Hajime a little off guard how nice she sounded. The innocence in her voice made Hajime think twice for a second. He would forever wonder how Shouyou was a professional at this since all Hajime wanted to do from the sound of her voice was turn away, leave her alone, and forget the job. 

“I’m glad,” Hajime said, and he took his hand off the man’s shoulder, moving to the woman. He grabbed her hand, lifting it and slightly pressing a kiss to the back of it. “Iwaizumi Hajime,” he introduced.

“Suzuki Mika,” Mika said, a faint blush on her cheeks. The guy’s face seemed to be red too but that was clearly more out of anger. 

_‘Perfect.’_

* * *

Tooru didn’t know that Kiyoomi would be semi-difficult to work with. When they were coming up with a plan, it didn’t seem like Kiyoomi wanted to merge jobs even a little. The mysophobe looked at all the profiles of their targets and _purposely_ picked one that was the least linked to all the others just so that he could work alone. It didn’t matter to Tooru. He could do things on his own perfectly fine, but what was so wrong with Tooru that Kiyoomi couldn’t work with him? Tooru was good at his job. He knew that.

_‘It’s probably just because it’s Sakusa.’_ Tooru mentally sighed. _‘I’ll try not to take it personally.’_

Once the two entered the building together, a few minutes after Hajime had walked in, Kiyoomi had separated from Tooru ― not even without a second thought either. It was as if he wanted to ditch Tooru as soon as possible. 

Tooru sighed. _‘This whole ‘not taking it personally’ thing is gonna be harder than I expected it to be.’_ He took a deep breath and tried his best to ignore it.

  
  


Scanning his eyes around the party, Tooru spotted Takahiro by the snack tables talking off some guy’s ear. Takahiro would get close, shove him playfully, laugh too hard at jokes. There was a glass in his hand, but despite seeming a little tipsy, there wasn’t a sip of it gone. Shouyou was a little ways away, and it seemed like he had the same strategy, flirting consistently with his target. The difference was he got more into it than Takahiro would, probably because this was his main job focus and was a pro at it. Hajime was off talking to two other girls, one with long brown hair, the other with blonde hair. A chuckle slipped from Tooru as he noticed another man standing uncomfortably next to them, watching with a hard, nasty glare as Hajime so obviously flirted with the woman.

It seemed like everyone’s strategy was gaining the trust of the target to lead them away to another area. 

_‘At least I have a twist to mine.’_

  
  


Tooru’s target was the blonde woman near Hajime, so he ran his fingers through his hair, pushing it back, and headed to greet the four of them. Tooru reached Hajime, letting out a laugh he pulled from thin air as he wrapped his arm on Hajime’s shoulder. “Iwa!” He called out. “How are you?”

Hajime seemed a little startled at first, but he soon warmed up and faked a smile. “Oikawa, hey,” he replied. “Good, hey, have you met these wonderful people yet?” He asked while looking at the women and the man standing in front of them. 

Tooru smiled, eyes going straight for his own target. He gave an overexaggerated bow, which the girl laughed at, and a wink as he stood back up. “Oikawa Tooru,” he spoke. “Care to get a drink with me? I heard they have mini martini’s.”

The girl giggled and nodded, taking Tooru’s extended arm as he let him lead her away.

* * *

“You got it?”

“I got it,” Atsumu groaned, rolling his eyes a little. “Have ya no faith in me, Matsukawa? What’s the name Oikawa gave ya?”

Issei sighed. “ _‘Mattsun’._ ”

“Mattsun!” Atsumu slapped a hand on Issei’s shoulder and laughed. “I got it. Give me five minutes, yah?” His hand slipped off Issei’s shoulder and pushed himself off from leaning against the car. He headed into the building, leaving behind Issei who rolled his eyes and checked his watch.

  
  


Atsumu entered the building with his hands in his pockets, looking around at all the people in there. He spotted the people he knew first ― his co-workers. Seeing Takahiro at a hundred percent made him smile, Shouyou was doing some heavy flirting by the snack tables, Tooru was making some woman swoon, Hajime was leading a couple out of the room already ― it seemed like the man didn’t waste a split second.

He looked for his own target next, some woman with a _‘can I speak to the manager’_ haircut and RBF like you wouldn’t believe. She was easy to spot, chatting away with a clear attitude by the snack tables a few steps away from Shouyou. Atsumu noticed Issei’s target a few feet away from her, perfect positioning that seemed suspicious.

Though this was Atsumu, and he was always overthinking things.

Atsumu made his way over, trying to gain the power of the Gods to even stand around someone like _this_. Didn’t they know Atsumu’s patience? It was not thin. He reached into his pocket, getting closer to the table filled with foods and drinks. There he spotted a plate of cream puffs and a glass next to his target. Atsumu grinned reaching his hand out for one as he held a soft pill in his hand. He dropped it in the lady’s drink and continued his reach to grab a cream puff or two.

“‘Xcuse me,” he spoke.

“ _Yes_ ,” she spoke harshly. “Excuse you.” She let out a sigh and picked up her spiked drink. Atsumu started to move toward Takahiro, but he still heard the woman speaking. “Rude people, I can’t believe someone like that would be invited to the party.”

_‘Oh, ‘m so happy ‘m killin’ yer ass.'_

  
  


Atsumu reached Takahiro who stood alone, the person he was talking with was off getting drinks. The thief reached him and leaned on his shoulder, holding out the cream puffs with his other hand.

“Huh―” Takahiro glanced over. “Oh,” Takahiro said once he realized who it was. He looked down at Atsumu’s hand, spotting the cream puffs. “Oh, my god. Kiss me,” Takahiro mumbled while quickly taking the pastries. Atsumu reached over, pressing a quick kiss to Takahiro’s cheek as the torturer bit into the sweets. “Epic.” He raised an eyebrow at Atsumu. “Why do you look slightly agitated?”

“Target pissed me off.”

Takahiro raised an eyebrow. “What’d she say?”

“I said ‘ _’xcuse me’_ ‘n the bitch said I was rude.”

“Mhm,” Takahiro said while finishing off his snack. “Death? Deserved. What did you give her by the way?”

“That killer stabilizer.”

“The slowly paralyzes you, and then your organs, and then pfttt?” Takahiro stuck his tongue out and gave a thumbs down. Atsumu nodded. “Nice.” Takahiro chuckled. “Little bit of pain and torture doesn’t hurt anyone.”

“Literally all it does.”

“Eh,” Takahiro shrugged. “Little this, little that.” He caught a glance of his target walking back over out of the corner of his eye and sighed. “Go on. Finish your job. I’m about to take this guy out, literally and figuratively.”

“What’re ya even implyin’ by that?”

Takahiro shrugged. “I dunno. Might get laid.”

“Hanamaki.”

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding.” Takahiro laughed. “A little,” he muttered, turning away from Atsumu and meeting his target halfway. Atsumu watched as he accepted a drink from him, but he didn’t drink it.

  
  


The twin sighed and turned back to his job. He scanned around for Issei’s target. While he was doing that, he spotted Issei finally making his way into the building. They locked eyes from across the room, and Issei gave him a nod. Atsumu took that as his sign that maybe he should fucking get his job done.

He walked past Issei’s target, carefully slipping his hand in their pocket as he had done many times before and pulled out their phone. It was smooth and quick, and Atsumu slid the device in his own pocket as he walked by and headed for the exit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Twitter @mattsuhana


	17. It's not all Hanamaki's fault but it probably is a little bit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW // More minor character death this chapter

**MAR. 15**

Peeking over his shoulder, Shouyou sighed under his breath once he noticed that Takahiro had finally got his own target in the correct position. He put his eyes back to the man continuously flirting with him and fake laughed. Slowly, he began to take steps back, closer and closer until he was a few feet from Takahiro’s target. That’s when he let himself trip, knocking into the man speaking with the torturer. The man was bumped forward into Takahiro, who hadn’t taken a sip of his drink all night which caused the beautiful mess that they were hoping for. 

Takahiro and his target were just covered in liquor. The torturer wasn’t a fan of this way to go about things, but it was their only idea at the time.

“Oh, my god!” Shouyou acted surprised as he spun around. “I’m so sorry!”

“Great,” Takahiro muttered under his breath, staring down at his jacket. “Thanks,” he groaned.

“I apologize!” Shouyou said. He covered his face with his hands. “God, I should ― I should go.” Shouyou started to make his way out of the party, and the man he was talking to shouted after him, following along.

Shouyou didn’t mind. Not at all. After all, that was the plan.

* * *

“Have you seen the outside view yet?” Hajime asked the lady, Mika, he was speaking with as he lazily stirred his drink in the air. It was getting dangerously close to spilling yet never did. Mika, who had a flushed face since the beginning of the night, shook her head. “Really? Out on the balcony is really quite gorgeous, much like yourself, I’d say.”

The target laughed. “Well, I think I better have a look at that,” she said.

“You sure?” The other guy had butted in, the one guy who had been standing there radiating anger for the past twenty minutes of flirting between Mika and Hajime. “You sure you’re just going to leave with this _guy_?”

“His name is Iwaizumi, Hiroto, and you don’t need to be so rude! I’ll be back in a second,” Mika spoke, and she looked to Hajime who held out his arm. She giggled and wrapped her arm around his, letting herself be escorted to another room of the party. It didn’t seem like _‘Hiroto’_ liked that one bit, and he followed the two, staying close behind.

  
  


“Hey,” the girl Tooru was talking with spoke up. She looked over his shoulder, tilting her head a little to see. Tooru turned his head as well to see what she was looking at, and he watched as Hajime walked out of the event with another girl. “Where are they going?”

“Mhm,” Tooru hummed, “not sure.” He lifted his glass to his lips and took a sip.

_‘I know Iwa and Tobio are working to sniper their targets. Maybe they’ll take mine out for me too.”_

“Should we go to investigate?” Tooru requested.

The girl looked to Tooru. She bit her lip, squinting her eyes as she looked over at the hallway the three had disappeared down. A smile formed on her lips, and she nodded. “I’m intrigued. Let’s go," she said.

* * *

Atsumu was kind of bored if he was going to admit it. He had done his job: poison his target, steal Issei’s target’s phone so he could get _his_ job done. That was it, that was all the thief had to do.

_‘I mean, could just wait in the car, I guess. Look over some information on those dickbags I’m huntin’ down.’_ Atsumu sighed. _‘Yeah, I’ll go with that.’_ He started to make his way out of the building, that was until he accidentally bumped into someone. 

“‘Xcuse me,” Atsumu spoke, putting a hand up as an apology as he looked at who he exactly bumped into. It was an older woman, a glass of wine in her hand. he stood by a few other men and women. 

It really took him as a shock when they started speaking a language he _didn’t fucking know_ . They spoke rapidly ― even if he did know what they were saying, Atsumu was a hundred percent sure he wouldn’t be able to keep up with them. The group of people laughed, spoke again, laughed _more_. Atsumu couldn’t help but feel he was being taunted and toyed with, and he didn’t even know what to say because _in what language_? 

There was a hand on his shoulder, and suddenly, someone behind him was on the same page as they were. They had said something which had gotten them to shut up, and turn away, embarrassed looks on all of them as they put their drinks to their faces.

The person, Atsumu savior, grabbed his shoulder and started to lead him away, further into the party Atsumu was trying to leave but hey, he couldn’t really get ungrateful right now, could he?

“You need to be more careful,” they spoke when they came to a stop near a wall away from most people.

“Omi, what the _hell_? Yer bilingual?” Atsumu asked.

Kiyoomi sighed. “No ― well,” he stuttered, searching for something to say, but the germaphobe had nothing. He pinched the bridge of his nose. 

“ _‘No, well,’_ what, Omi?”

“I speak more than just two,” he said.

“How many?”

“I honestly lost count," Kiyoomi admitted.

“That is,” Atsumu took a breath, “actually really fuckin’ hot.”

“Could you shut up?”

“Why do I needa be careful?” Atsumu asked instead.

“Because rich,” Kiyoomi began as he grabbed Atsumu’s shoulders and made him face all the people in the event. He leaned closer and lowered his voice to a whisper, “educated assholes like to make fun of the poor, monolingual bastards.”

“‘Course,” Atsumu mumbled under his breath. “Whateva. Not like I care.”

“From your facial expression, it seemed like you were getting pretty irritated,” Kiyoomi said while backing up. He wiped his hands on his jacket and stuffed his hands in his pockets.

“Shut up. What were they sayin’?”

“So you _do_ care,” Kiyoomi said.

“Shut up.” Atsumu crossed his arms. “Are ya gonna tell me?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

Kiyoomi shrugged, a small hint of a smile on his face, something that Atsumu had never personally seen, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t be a fan of it. “Kind of funny.”

“Prick,” Atsumu mumbled.

* * *

Shouyou ran out to his car, faking tears and embarrassment. His target followed after him, shouting things for him to come back and not to leave.

“It’s alright!” The guy said to Shouyou as the trained assassin reached into the back of his car. “Mistakes happen.”

“Thanks,” Shouyou mumbled. He looked around the backseat for the weapon he planned on using. His eyes landed on the pouch on the back of the front chair with the large knife’s handle sticking out. “Perfect.”

“What’s perfect?”

“This.” Shouyou grabbed the knife and leaned out of the car. He ran his finger lightly down the blade and smiled.

“Huh?”

Swinging the knife, Shouyou slashed it through the man’s throat. He’d never get used to the sound they’d make as they choked on their own blood for a few seconds, or the sight when they clapped their hand over their throat and kneeled, or the look in their eye that looked to Shouyou as if they turned black before rolling into the back of their head.

Wiping the blade on his pants to clean it off, Shouyou watched as the man fell to the parking lot floor. He sighed, tossing the knife carelessly back in the car before leaning down. His hands slipped underneath the guy’s arms and picked him up, pulling the dead weight of the body into the back of his car. There was a towel sitting ready in the front seat, and Shouyou grabbed it, wiping his hands off on it before he swung it on his shoulder and grabbed the clean clothes sitting in the passenger seat. He sighed before closing all the car doors and looking back to the building.

_‘Hanamaki time now.’_

* * *

You could call Tobio surprised when he witnessed Shouyou carrying out his job from the trees. With guns, Shouyou was a fumbled, uncoordinated mess, but when it came to seducing and dragging out a guy unknowingly to a parking lot to kill him, Shouyou was on a whole other level. Something about it sent a shiver down Tobio’s spine.

_‘He was the first one done.’_ Tobio thought. He scratched the side of his face. _‘Maybe I underestimated him_ ― _well, I did for sure.’_ He sighed. _‘Not the point right now.’_

  
  


Tobio put his attention back to the three on the balcony ― a man, a woman, and Hajime. Well, it was three until he watched Tooru enter the back deck with another woman. She walked up to the other woman that Hajime was with and hugged her. While they caught up with each other, Tooru pulled out his phone.

Tobio’s phone buzzed.

  
  


_**Oikawa** : Tobiooooo _

_**Kageyama** : What _

_**Oikawa** : Think you can take out my target too??? Pleasee _

  
  


Tobio sighed. Tooru was always like this.

  
  


_**Kageyama** : Fine _

_**Oikawa** : YOU’RE THE BEST TOBIO _

  
  


Tobio rolled his eyes and slid his phone back into his pocket. The deck was almost completely empty. It was his co-workers, the three targets, and a man and woman talking in the corner. 

  
  


_**Kageyama** : I can’t take out the targets with that couple there _

_**Iwaizumi** : Got it. Give me a second _

  
  


Hajime excused himself and walked up to the couple, telling them something and pointing back into the building. They seemed shocked at whatever he said and went running back into the building.

  
  


_**Kageyama** : What did you tell them _

_**Iwaizumi** : Fresh oysters at the buffet _

  
  


That’s not what Tobio would’ve done, but that was why Tobio was positioned in the trees instead of out _there_. 

He lifted the sniper so he could see through the scope and studied their placements. He’d have to take them out in a specific order so none of them would scream and no one would be able to dodge, get away, or take Tooru or Hajime as a possible hostage. It seemed like Tooru and Hajime forgot who these people were. They seemed light on their feet around them (except for the guy, but that was only because he radiated harsh vibes with how jealous he was). They were targets for a reason; the women were _not_ innocent but only acted.

So Tobio put his finger on the trigger and took a deep breath. It wasn’t as if he needed it, Tobio could do this with his eyes closed, but something about gaining complete focus was something that Tobio needed to gather _every time_. His shot was always beautiful, perfectly-centered, and thought out to the very last second ― what would happen after, what would happen in between, what would be the quickest?

He figured out his pattern: Tooru’s, Hajime’s, then his own.

Within a second, before Hajime or Tooru could even see, their targets dropped. The silencer on the sniper caused just that apart from the sound of the bodies dropping along with the wine glasses from their hands that shattered on the ground. Tobio switched on the safety and swung the gun on his back. He grabbed ahold of the branch below him and swung down to the ground, rushing over to the deck to help them grab the bodies.

“Nice, Tobio!” Tooru praised, and he grinned. Tobio could tell he missed being on the field and see everyone in action up close. “Sharpshooter as always.”

* * *

Takahiro stared down at his drink-covered jacket and sighed, letting out a huff of disappointment as if he wasn’t waiting the whole night for this to happen. 

“Jesus,” his target mumbled, annoyed. “This is fucking awful.”

“Hey, it’s not that bad,” Takahiro tried to reassure him. He grabbed his hand. “Come on. We can clean up in the bathroom.” The guy didn’t seem sold at first, honestly, he seemed really upset about his suit being destroyed. Takahiro threw him a wink to try and ease him down, and that seemed to get him on his side.

“Alright, alright, fine.”

  
  


Takahiro dragged the target to the bathroom, closing the door behind him. He scanned for a lock but considering it was a bathroom with stalls, it didn’t have one. The torturer cursed under his breath.

_‘Whatever. I’ll just kill whoever else walks in.’_

He turned to see the man leaned in front of the mirror, staring at the damage done to his shirt. Letting out a sigh, the man grabbed some paper towel from the dispenser and began dabbing it on his clothes as if it would get a red stain out of a white shirt.

“Yeah,” Takahiro began as he boosted himself on the counter. “You’re not getting that stain out.”

“Thanks for having faith in me, Makki,” the guy muttered. _‘Makki’._ Yes. Takahiro’s _‘code name’_ was the nickname that Tooru had given him. It was mainly for the reason so Tooru couldn’t use his name in public if he wanted to. If someone had heard Tooru say _'Makki'_ in public and a rumor ever spread that was something like, _'Makki cannot be trusted_ _'_ , he would be targeted then and there.

“You’re welcome,” Takahiro said, and he reached over, grabbing the guy’s sleeve. He pulled him between his legs, wrapping his arms around his neck. “I have a better idea.”

“Really?” The guy smirked, and he placed his hands on Takahiro’s thighs. “What’s that?” Takahiro slowly leaned closer, his other hand reaching into his jacket. He stopped when his cheek was pressed against his, his breath hitting the side of his face. Takahiro gripped onto the weapon and pushed out the blade of the box cutter.

“Murder,” he whispered.

“What?”

Takahiro stabbed him in the gut, sinking it in further. He backed his own head back as the guy choked, muttering a soft _‘Gross’_ under his breath as he shoved the guy in the shoulder. Giving a harsher shove, Takahiro pushed him off the blade and onto the ground.

“What an interesting way to kill someone.” Takahiro looked to the window of the bathroom.

“Matsukawa would’ve found it funny,” he mumbled and jumped from the counter. As Takahiro cleaned off the box cutter, Shouyou opened the window the rest of the way and jumped through it. He walked into the bathroom and set clothes on the counter.

“Change of clothes for you since I―” Shouyou looked Takahiro up and down, his navy blue jacket was covered in stains. “Yeah,” Shouyou laughed nervously. “I really am sorry about that.”

“Don’t be, Hinata,” Takahiro said while peeling off his jacket. “That was the plan, after all.” 

Takahiro changed into the new set of clothes, a pair of black sweats and a sweater. He stuck his head under the sink in the bathroom to clean out any drops of liquor that might have soaked into the brown-pinkish hair. Thankfully, Shouyou had a towel, but the problem was that he originally planned to use it to clean up the blood in the bathroom to not leave behind a mess.

“It’ll be fine,” Takahiro said as he lowered the towel from his damp hair. Shouyou gave him a look about him using the _only_ towel he brought with him to clean up Takahiro’s bloody mess. “It’s not like I soaked the towel with water, it can still pick up the blood.”

  
  


The two worked together to clean up the bathroom and shove the body out of the window. As Takahiro was pushing the limp back through the window, the bathroom door opened. The pair swore they had never turned their heads so fast before. Thankfully, it was a familiar face.

“You didn’t lock the door?” 

Takahiro shrugged. “There’s no lock, and I was just gonna stab you if I didn’t know you," Takahiro said. Issei sighed, shutting the door behind him. He stepped in, helping Takahiro and Shouyou with the last bit of weight before stepping back and crossing his arms. “What?” Takahiro asked. “Why are you giving me that judgemental look? Don’t you have a person to kill?”

“Already did.”

“Sexy.”

“I know right?” Issei grinned. He looked over at Shouyou. “What are you guys doing?”

“We leave through the window and take the body out to the car,” Shouyou explained. “Then leave, I guess.”

“Alright, I’m going with you guys,” Issei shrugged. “But Hanamaki’s car better not be filled with candy wrappers.”

“Shut up, it’s Hinata’s car,” Takahiro snapped. “And it still is, yes.”

  
  


The trio hopped out of the bathroom window and shut it behind them. Any trace of anything was taken care of as if nothing had ever happened. Once they were outside, Takahiro picked up the body by the arms, Issei held them by the legs, Shouyou carried the dirty clothes and towels, and they started walking.

That was until someone screamed. They looked up, eyes locking with an old woman who held a hose. She was watering flowers, she must’ve been the gardener or something. Takahiro was about to say something, come up with an excuse ― what excuse could he even have? ― but people were already on their way out to see what the screaming was about. 

“Hey,” Takahiro dragged out awkwardly as around five men ran out and stood in front of them. They all pulled out guns ― in sync which Takahiro was kind of impressed by. “Nice night we’re having, right?”

“Drop the body,” one of them spoke. 

“That’s a little rude. He’s dead,” Takahiro said. “Have some respect.”

“Drop it.” 

Takahiro sighed and did as he said, Issei following suit, Shouyou dropping his things as well.

_‘Great.’_

* * *

In just thirty minutes, Tobio, Hajime, and Tooru were done with the job out on the balcony. The bodies were hidden in the bushes and trees where they would be an easy recovery after the party and any blood that had gotten anywhere was cleaned up. 

“I’m texting Hanamaki but he’s not responding,” Hajime muttered, staring down at his phone.

“Makki?” Tooru leaned over. “Do you think something’s wrong?”

“Considering it’s Hanamaki, he probably did something that got them caught.”

“Tobio!” Tooru exclaimed, then he paused. “I mean, you’re right, but that’s pretty blunt.”

“I’ve always assumed Kageyama was blunt,” Hajime said.

“He is,” Tooru said. “Just not usually toward Makki. More me.”

“Because I don’t like you.”

“Rude!” Tooru sighed. “Anyway, I think we should look for them around the party a bit before leaving.”

Hajime nodded in agreement. He looked over at Tobio. “Kageyama, you should head back.” Tobio looked at him. “Put away the sniper and get ready for when we come back to get the bodies,” Hajime explained. Tobio nodded, and he jumped over the balcony, heading back in the direction of the trees. Hajime looked to Tooru and ushered him to go inside. “Well, let’s go, idiot.”

  
  


Hajime and Tooru walked around the party, eyes peeled for any of the people they came with. The problem was they couldn’t find _anyone_. There wasn’t the initial light-pink head of hair they were looking for, nor the orange one which they thought would’ve been pretty easy to spot, not even the six-foot-four Matsukawa Issei.

“Where is everyone?” Tooru muttered to Hajime.

Hajime shrugged, looking around for what seemed like the twentieth time that night. “I have no fucking clue.”

“Excuse me,” a man spoke and walked up to the duo. Tooru and Hajime exchanged a glance. This man was a complete stranger.

“Yes?” Tooru asked.

“You look confused? I was wondering if you needed help?”

“We’re looking for people,” Hajime spoke up. “Three people.”

The man squinted. “Redhead, another one pinkish hair, and a tall guy?” Tooru and Hajime looked at each other again. Hajime wasn’t sure about saying _‘yes’._ He thought something was definetly suspicious about the fact that this random stranger _knew_. Tooru, on the other hand, didn’t seem to think there was anything weird about it, and he nodded. “Follow me.”

Before they followed the guy, Hajime grabbed onto Tooru’s sleeve. “Is this a good idea?” Hajime asked.

Tooru looked between the guy walking away and Hajime. He sighed. “Probably not, but if Makki, Mattsun, and Sho are in trouble, we have to do something.” Hajime bit his lip. Tooru was right. He sighed, giving in, and nudged his head in the direction to follow. 

“Alright, I guess, but if I get hurt because you were stupid, I’m kicking your ass.”

Tooru laughed. “Got it, Iwa.”

* * *

Kiyoomi leaned against the car door. He held a folder of papers in his hand and flicked through them, eyes scanning each page. 

“Miya.”

“I told ya to call me _‘Atsumu’,_ ” Atsumu corrected with a groan. He looked up at the sky in annoyance. The twin sat on the trunk, laying on the back windshield of the car. They parked outside the party, waiting for the other two who had ridden with them to get out there so that they could leave. “My stupid brother and his fiancé work with us, ya know? Yer just gonna get confused.”

Kiyoomi sighed. “I know, I keep forgetting.” He stepped closer near Atsumu and showed him what he was looking at. “Do you realize how many people you want to hunt and track _and kill_?”

“Yah.”

“This might take a while.”

“Yah.”

“You’re fine with that?”

“Yah.”

Kiyoomi sighed.

“Omi, these people fucked my whole life.”

“I know that,” Kiyoomi muttered. “But I feel like you’re wasting your time hunting them all down when you could just live the life you’ve ― fixed or whatever.”

Atsumu sighed. “I know, that’s what ‘Samu told me.” Atsumu sat up on the car, setting the folder he was reading in his lap. The side of his leg brushed against Kiyoomi, though neither of them seemed to mind. “He always said revenge was a waste and to just ‘ _live with what we got_ ’.” Atsumu sighed again. “I just wanna give these fucks what they deserve,” he muttered. Silence sat between them after that, the noises of crickets in the back of them, a slight breeze gave a small whistle every now and then.

“Takin’ long fer ‘em to get out here, ya?” Atsumu finally said.

“Yeah,” Kiyoomi mumbled. “How long has it been since we’ve been done?”

Atsumu checked his watch. “Two hours.” Kiyoomi looked over, and Atsumu gave a small shrug.

“What are you thinking happened?”

“Honestly?” Atsumu asked. He gave a small laugh. “Makki got ‘em kidnapped.”

“Seriously?”

“He’s reckless, Omi.”

Kiyoomi sighed, tossing the folder he had into the open window of the car. “Let’s go back in then.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Twitter @mattsuhana


	18. Matsuakwa's fall

**MAR. 15**

“I personally think this is a really funny situation.”

“How is this funny in any way?” Issei deadpanned.

“Because,” Takahiro said with a chuckle. “We’re in the same position I found you in.” Shouyou, Takahiro, and Issei were, in fact, the same position that Takahiro had originally found Issei in. Chains around their wrists, hands above their heads, a little off the ground ― Shouyou was _a lot_ off the ground.

“Do you realize I was in the position for a month?”

Takahiro shrugged, in the best way that he could given his position, “Yeah, but I’m sure we’ll be fine. Atsumu is good at finding people.”

“Oh, yes, trust the one with an accent,” Issei muttered.

“Hey, his accent is thick and stupid, but Atsumu knows what he’s doing.” Takahiro swung a little in the chain, pulling his wrists in a way that would make Issei cringe, but he seemed fine with the slight dislocation. It made Issei wonder just how far Takahiro’s pain tolerance went. The torturer tapped the tip of his shoe against Issei’s leg. “Are you bothered by this situation?”

“Slightly,” Issei mumbled, and he sighed. “I’m not a fan of being kidnapped and tortured, Hanamaki.”

“Why not?”

“Why would you be?” Shouyou asked. 

Takahiro gave another half-assed shrug and swung a little back and forth on the chain. “I dunno. It’s kind of funny when they think they can hurt you.”

“They _can_ hurt you,” Issei said.

“Yeah but not in the worst way possible.”

“What do you mean?” Shouyou whined. “It hurts me.”

“It could be a hell of a lot worse.” 

“Like, what?” Issei asked.

“Hell no,” Takahiro laughed. “I’m not giving out my secrets. I have ways to make people talk, and if other people know them then I’m useless.”

“You have abandonment issues,” Shouyou said.

Takahiro nodded. “Pretty much.”

* * *

When Hajime and Tooru turned the corner, the coldness of the hallway drew out the worst feeling in their guts. They definitely knew that whatever they were walking into was a trap, but it wasn’t like either of them cared. Well, they cared, but they weren’t going to turn back on their friends.

The second they rounded the corner away from the eyes of the party, they knew the acting was over with. The man leading them turned with a canister in his hand and made an effort to spray it in their faces. Tooru was quicker though, slamming his hand down in the crease of his arm which caused him to drop the small tank of gas. He grabbed his wrist and bent his arm behind his back, pushing him against the wall. 

“Agh!” The guy yelled out, but it wasn’t loud enough to alert anyone at the party especially over the loud noises.

“Where are they?” Tooru asked. 

Call Hajime a little shocked, he didn’t know that Tooru had reflexes like that. He hadn’t witnessed the analyzer out in the field like this, he just knew that he had been out before. It made him think about how much he really didn’t know about the people they combined with. Morisuke surprised Hajime for sure; Takahiro was apparently way more dangerous than anyone had expected; Tobio was an excellent shot; suddenly, Tooru was a master of reflexes. What else? 

The guy slipped the grip a little, kicking Tooru in the leg. He cursed under his breath. It was clear Tooru bit his tongue pretty hard as his leg gave out a little. His eyebrows sunk in, and his expression changed to one Hajime had never seen ― one of pure pain.

“Where are they?” Tooru repeated in a much harsher tone after he regained his composure.

“Where are who?”

“Don’t play dumb please, I don’t really have patience,” Tooru said, and he pushed the guy’s arm further up his back. The guy cursed under his breath, trying to stand taller to reduce the strain on his arm. “Where?”

“Are you going to kill me?”

Tooru sighed. “No, but I’ll knock you out in the nicest way possible if you tell me. No brain damage.” The guy seemed to start to panic, that whole facade of being a tough guy had completely disappeared once Tooru had his hands on him for good. Hajime was impressed, standing back with his arms crossed as he watched Tooru take on the situation singlehandedly.

“B-basement. The basement! I swear to God," he stuttered out. Tooru grabbed his head and yanked it back by the hair, staring down at him with a harsh expression. Hajime had personally never thought Tooru could make that face. The man could really get serious; he was really showing Hajime another side of him.

“Is that all?” Tooru asked. The guy bit his lip and lost eye contact with Tooru. He stared off to the ground before nodding. Tooru went to wrap his arm around his neck, probably knock him out smoothly with a chokehold as he promised, but Hajime stopped him by putting a hand on his shoulder.

“There’s something he’s not telling us.”

“Huh?” Tooru blinked a few times. “What do you mean, Iwa?”

“He’s lying ― not about the basement. I believe that part.” Hajime glared at him, and the guy seemed to get even more scared when they made eye contact. “There’s more he’s not telling us.”

“What is it?” Tooru asked the guy directly this time. He stayed quiet, looking away from both of them. The analyzer didn’t like that, stepping on his foot. “Tell.”

“Okay, okay! We may or may not have known about at least _one_ of you.”

“Who?”

“T-the tall one!” The guy spoke quickly. “We spiked his drink.”

Tooru cocked an eyebrow. “With what?” He asked.

“Your _torturer_ friend should know.” Tooru and Hajime looked at each other, exchanging a curious glance. “Knock me out! I’m not telling you any more.” Hajime shrugged at Tooru, giving him the go-to. Tooru sighed, wrapping his arm around the guy’s neck and knocking him out before letting him drop to the ground.

“I thought you said you were going to be nice with him?” Hajimed asked.

“Yeah,” Tooru said with a sigh, “but then he lied to me, so I thought _‘nah’_. Also, he kicked me in the knee,” Tooru mumbled quietly. He stared down at it and let out another sigh, one a lot softer than the one before.

“Fair enough,” Hajime said. “Basement then?”

“Basement, though I’m kind of scared.”

“You don’t like basements?” Hajime asked with a grin as he started walking down the hallway in hope that the door was somewhere that way and that they wouldn’t have to cross the party to get to the _other_ hallway. 

“Not because of the basement!” Tooru sighed. “About Mattsun. What did they give him?” Hajime hadn’t really thought about it, but when Tooru brought it up again, it made his stomach churn.

_‘Why would Hanamaki know about it?”_

“We’ll see, I guess.”

* * *

Atsumu almost tripped in his step at the buzzing on his wrist. His free arm reached out and grabbed Kiyoomi’s only enough to get his attention to stop and let go almost right away. He lifted his other hand, looking down at the touchscreen device that resembled a watch.

“What?” Kiyoomi asked, stopping in front of Atsumu and looking down at what he was looking at. “Oikawa?” Atsumu nodded and accepted the call. They hadn’t quite made it into the building yet, still walking through the parking lot since they decided to park in the far back.

The speakers were turned low, but it was still enough for the two assassins to hear it, especially since they were outside in the quiet far away from any noise of the ongoing party. _"_ __Y_ ahoo! ‘Tsumu!” _

“Where have ya been?” Atsumu asked.

_“So long story short, Makki, Mattsun, and Sho are kidnapped.”_

“What now?” Atsumu looked up at Kiyoomi, he didn’t seem at all phased by it. The thief let out a sigh. “So what’s the plan?”

_“Iwa and I were going to head in. We got someone to tell us they were locked in the basement.”_

“Omi and I’ll look fer a basement door then?” Atsumu raised an eyebrow. Kiyoomi nodded. “Yup. Sound good?”

_“Good enough for us. Let us know if you find one or not.”_

“Good luck.”

_“Mhm.”_

  
  


The call ended, and Atsumu sighed, letting his wrist drop. He ran his fingers through his hair and looked to the large building hosting the event. “Guess we check around then, yah?” He asked. 

“Let’s hurry up,” Kiyoomi said as he started to walk. “I want to take a shower.”

Atsumu sighed again, for what seemed like the millionth time that night, following along. “‘Course ya do.”

* * *

Takahiro sighed, frowning at Issei’s actions. “No, seriously, what are you doing?” He asked.

“What does it look like I’m doing?”

“It looks like you’re trying to break your wrists," Takahiro replied. Issei placed his feet on the wall behind him, arms above his head in chains. He climbed the wall a little, grabbing a hold of the metal that dug into the ceiling and held him up by the wrists. “Matsukawa, you’re going to break your wrists,” Takahiro said sternly.

“Would you give me a second?”

Takahiro sighed. He looked over at Shouyou. The smaller one watched Issei carefully and didn’t seem worried at all. “Why are you not calling him out for being stupid?” Takahiro asked him.

“Matsu’s got it,” Shouyou muttered. “I’ve seen him do it before.”

“Do _what_?” Takahiro looked back at Issei. His eyes grew wider than they were before, watching as Issei was basically upside down. He held onto the chains, feet planted on the ceiling as if he was on the playground on the monkey bars. The fighter spun the chains so he faced the wall and roughly pulled on them. “What the fuck?” Takahiro quietly muttered under his breath.

“What’s going on?” Takahiro’s eyes snapped up to the bars in front of them as did Shouyou’s, Issei seemed a bit too focused on whatever the hell he was still trying to do. A man looked through the bars, shocked to see the position that Issei was in, and he started to fumble around in his pockets. “Hey!” He shouted, a jingle of keys in his hands as he rushed to unlock the cell. 

“Uhh, Matsukawa,” Takahiro said nervously, “he’s coming in. You might want to, you know, stop?”

“Almost got it,” he muttered. Takahiro wished he could hit Issei because the guy was almost in and Issei was _‘almost done’_ . With _what_? Takahiro was able to take a torturing, but he wasn’t sure how much Issei and Shouyou could take. It wasn’t like he didn’t have limits, either. Takahiro could only use himself as a distraction to stop them from torturing the others for so long. 

The guard got the door open and rushed in, but it wasn’t quick enough. Whatever Issei was doing actually worked, much to the cream puff lover’s surprise. The chains ripped from the ceiling and Issei kicked off the wall to land on his feet. He landed in front of the guy, wasting not a split second to move around the guy and wrap his arms around his neck, pulling back so the chains began to choke him. Issei crossed his arms to cuff the chains tighter around the man’s throat, waiting just enough time for him to fall unconscious before he let him drop to the ground.

Takahiro had never seen anything like that in his seventeen years of professional work. 

“Call me horny,” Takahiro muttered. 

“Huh?” Issei looked to Takahiro for a quick glance before leaning down and picking up the dropped set of keys. He grinned and unlocked the chains around his wrists before walking up to Takahiro to unlock his. 

“I have _never_ seen anyone do _that_ ,” Takahiro said. He felt the cuffs around his wrists loosen, and his feet finally touched the floor, the gripping and pulling finally relieving from popping his joints. He massaged his wrists, watching as Issei made his way to Shouyou. “You just pulled fucking chains from the ceiling.”

Issei chuckled and let Shouyou down, the human tangerine was quiet as he rubbed his wrists back and forth. “Yeah? You never seen that?” 

“Matsukawa, my job is being a torturer where people are tied down and I have never had someone escape in that way. _Ever_.”

“You’ve had people escape?” Issei asked while he kneeled down and checked the unconscious body on the ground. Takahiro looked over at Shouyou, he was still quiet, watching Issei and listening to the conversation between the two instead of saying anything.

“A couple, yeah,” Takahiro said quietly. “Long story.” Issei stood up with a gun he picked off the body in his hands. Though he acted weird about it, seemingly shifting oddly. He looked up at the ceiling and bit his bottom lip, his eyebrows furrowing in what Takahiro was able to read as _‘pain’_. “What?” Takahiro asked, moving to him, a hand moving to his shoulder. “Hey, Matsukawa?” 

Issei shut his eyes tight as he looked over at Takahiro, shaking his head slightly as his eyes slowly peeled open. He was seeing double for a second, he started to feel a little dizzy ― sick even. Like he was going to puke but it just _wouldn’t_ happen. 

“Talk, Matsukawa.”

“Weird,” Issei mumbled. Takahiro’s hands were wrapped around Issei’s arm, trying to look closely at his face to read his expression. “I feel weird.”

“You did just rip chains from a wall.”

“Not that.” He put his other hand up, rubbing his forehead with the palm of his hand as if that could soothe the beating pain in his head that was increasing by the second. “God.”

“It did take you longer than usual to get the chains from the ceiling,” Shouyou muttered. Takahiro glanced over at Shouyou, raising an eyebrow. _‘He could do it quicker than that?’_ He shook that off, he’d ask later, and put his attention back to Issei.

“Matsukawa, seriously, you can’t just be saying random curse words and expect me to be able to figure out what the hell is wrong with you.” Takahiro put his hand to Issei’s forehead. “Holy shit. You’re _burning_.”

“Burning? Seriously?” Issei’s words were getting quieter, though he felt like his voice was getting louder. It hurt to speak. His tongue felt a little numb like he wouldn’t be able to feel getting a tongue piercing if he wanted to.

“I think we need to get out of here,” Shouyou spoke up. Takahiro looked at him. Issei’s gaze locked on the wall in front of him. He was spacing out every few seconds, snapping back to reality quickly like a push and pull. Everything that was _wrong_ with issei was getting worse and worse by the second and faster too.

“Can you walk?” Takahiro asked Issei, already skipping ahead a step to set Issei’s arm on his shoulder.

“We’ll see.” Takahiro had to be really close to hear him, but he was close enough with his side pressed against Issei’s. He looked to Shouyou who seemed pretty worried as well, but he was keeping the expression hidden, only really being able to read it if you looked him in the eyes hard enough. Takahiro grabbed the gun from Issei’s hand. It wasn’t even a fight to grab it with Issei’s loose grip, and he handed it off to Shouyou.

“Let’s go then.”

* * *

Tooru and Hajime walked through the hallways on high alert, checking door for door for some set of staircases that led down. They were anxious they were going to get caught by someone. 

Hajime noticed Tooru limping slightly, but he ignored it, planning to ask later. The guy he knocked out did kick him in the leg, but Hajime wasn’t sure why that was affecting Tooru so much. He did say he had an injury though was it that sensitive? Honestly, Hajime just wanted to see him off of it. Watching as Tooru limped around while cursing under his breath in pain or biting his lip made Hajime’s stomach twist. Thankfully, Hajime found the right door fairly quickly.

“Oikawa,” Hajime waved a hand, “here,” he said. Tooru looked over his shoulder and smiled. 

“Perfect, Iwa! Little hunter.”

“You call me _'little'_ one more time and I’ll lock you where we find them and _leave_.”

“Okay, okay, sorry,” Tooru apologized quickly. “You’re just fun-sized.” Hajime grabbed the back of Tooru’s shirt and bunched it up, making a small quick motion as if to threaten to send him down the stairs. He was more careful than he usually would’ve been considering Tooru’s current injury. “Iwa!” Tooru yelled in a whisper.

“You ever make fun of my height ever again, I will not hesitate to literally push you down a flight of stairs," Hajime threatened. Tooru nodded quickly to show he understood. “Good. Now go.”

  
  


Tooru went first, the voice in the back of his head kept telling him that Hajime would push him down the stairs. That wasn’t saying he was ready for that to happen since he knew that Hajime probably, most likely, wouldn't actually push him. Instead, Tooru focused on gripping onto the handle of the small handgun, ready for whatever was waiting at the bottom of the stairs than if Hajime was going to shove him. He was still limping, moving slower than he normally would. Tooru screamed at himself to step his game up. He _hated_ it.

They reached the bottom of the stairs, a creepy, rusty, iron door at the bottom. Tooru bit back his tongue, taking a quick glance back at Hajime before he even went to open it. The sniper just gave him a nod, and Tooru sighed, reaching for the door handle. He swung it open to a room with two cells, a long hallway with a ladder and a trap door that went up at the end, and three people on their way to said ladder. They snapped their heads back to look, and Tooru raised the gun, but all let out a sigh of relief once they realized.

“What’s wrong with Matsukawa?” Hajime asked though, in the back of his mind, he already knew or at least had an idea that something would be wrong with him.

“We don’t know actually,” Takahiro mumbled. “He just started acting strange.” Issei looked sick while hanging on Takahiro’s shoulder. His face was pale, his eyelids were droopier than usual, his posture was worse than all hell. Takahiro looked over at him, biting his lip and furrowing his eyebrows. “Huh,” he quietly let out.

“You know what it is,” Tooru said while kicking the door close behind him. 

“What now?” Takahiro looked to Tooru.

“We figured out you guys were in the basement from some guy. He also told us that Matsukawa’s drink was spiked and that _you_ would know what was given to him,” Hajime explained while pointing to Takahiro. The torturer slowly glanced back over at Issei, his eyes widening a little, eyebrows lightly lifting in realization. “What?” Hajime asked.

“It’s―” Takahiro took a deep breath. “No.”

“What is it, Makki?”

“It’s a drug, a really, _really_ nasty drug,” Takahiro mumbled. “I knew his symptoms were familiar, I just didn’t want to believe that they were because of it.”

“Makki, explain.”

“I’ll explain when we get him out of here,” Takahiro said, lifting Issei on his shoulder more. “I want to get him out now.”

“Fine,” Hajime said, and he moved to help Takahiro. “I’m guessing that ladder is to a back entrance?”

“We were hoping,” Shouyou said. “Hey,” he spoke before they could move. “I think we should grab the guy.”

“ _‘The guy’_?” Hajime asked, and Shouyou nodded. He pointed his head in the direction of the cell they came out of, and Tooru and Hajime looked. A man laid unconscious in the cell. “Him?”

“Hanamaki can ― you know, do his work," Shouyou said.

“I will,” Takahiro intervened. “Yeah, whatever, just grab him. I want to get Matsukawa out,” he basically pleaded. Tooru lifted his hand, pushing back the sleeve of his jacket to look at the matching watch that Atsumu had. He called Atsumu once again, waiting while it rang at a low volume.

_“What?”_ Atsumu picked up.

“Did you find anything yet?”

_“Do ya have any idea how fuckin’ big this buildin’ is?”_

“Go to the south side,” Hajime said.

_“Southside? Do I look like I know where the hell that is?”_

_“You’re an idiot,”_ a familiar voice said faintly.

_“Omi! Don’t ya think that’s a bit rude?”_

_“Yes, but I also don’t care.”_

_“Omi!-”_

_“We’re on our way, Iwaizumi.”_

“Nice,” Hajime said. “Thanks.” 

Tooru hung up the call and sighed. “Alright, let’s get Mattsun out of here. Iwa, can you grab that guy with Sho?” Tooru asked while walking to Takahiro and Issei. He switched positions with Shouyou. The redhead handed Issei off to Tooru, and the sniper and manipulator headed to the cell to grab the unconscious man. They dragged him out of the cell when Tooru spoke up again. “Did everyone get their targets at least?” He asked. Shouyou and Takahiro nodded. "And Mattsun?”

“He said he did,” Takahiro said. “I trust it enough. Can we please get out?”

“Yeah, yeah, keep it in your pants, Makki,” Tooru said. “Let’s go before someone comes down here.”

* * *

Kiyoomi led the way as they made their way to the south side of the building, Atsumu tagging along behind. They walked along the side of the building, being careful enough to take a peek into any windows they passed in case there was someone in there. If they were caught wandering the property, it probably wouldn’t be good.

Just ahead there was a small sliver of light coming from the ground, and it slowly started to get bigger. Doors opening ― trap doors opening from the ground, and soon enough, an orange head of hair popped their head up. Kiyoomi let out a sigh of relief, able to recognize it anywhere.

“Hey, Hinata,” Kiyoomi called out in a whisper. The head turned to him. Shouyou smiled and waved, hoping out from the hole in the ground. He waved them over before turning his attention back to the door, reaching in the help with something.

“Holy shit,” Atsumu mumbled as he watched Shouyou help Hajime get an unconscious man out of the trapdoor. They roughly pulled him out, tossing him to the ground. Shouyou was quick to head back to the ladder, helping to get Issei up the ladder with the help of Takahiro from the bottom. “Wait, what happened?” That was when they bounced to help, Kiyoomi let Issei lean on his shoulder, Atsumu was now on the other side helping Issei to his feet. 

“Apparently, Makki knows,” Shouyou said as Takahiro climbed up the ladder and dusted off his sweatpants.

“And I’ll explain later,” Takahiro said again. “Oikawa, will you hurry up?”

“I’m going as fast as I can,” Tooru said as he came up next, and he closed the doors behind him. “Parking lot is that way?” Tooru asked while pointing the way they came, and Kiyoomi nodded. “Well? What are we waiting for? I’d like to keep my streak up of ‘ _Not being the one to get kidnapped_ ’.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Twitter @mattsuhana


	19. Some are people are talking, some people aren't

**MAR. 15**

The way that Takahiro was rushing everything made everyone's heads spin. He was telling people what to do, pointing and sending people in every direction, losing his mind.

“No, just set him down there ― I’ll explain later, shut up. Can you get this damp with cold water? Don’t give him _that_.”

When he started to order around Akinori, that’s when people started to really see an issue with the panicking.

Hajime and Tooru had gone off and brought the person that Issei had knocked unconscious to the cells of the building, a hallway that only Takahiro and a few others were extremely familiar with. Shouyou was doing whatever he could for Takahiro, actually listening to him to get a cold, damp towel for Issei. Keiji met them at the door where Kiyoomi and Atsumu handed Issei off to him before they left off to do whatever they were doing. With the help of Tobio, Keiji brought him to the closest hospital bed in the medical ward. ****Akinori watched, wondering what the hell was happening. He wanted to check up on Issei, but Takahiro was running around like a chicken with its head cut off. The doctor wasn’t sure if he could even get near Issei without getting bit or something.

“Hanamaki, I think you need to slow down and take a breather,” Akinori said.

“No,” Takahiro huffed out, carefully placing the cold towel on Issei’s forehead. Issei’s face was red and warm. He was unconscious, a staggering breath leaving his lips with each exhale. “No, I’m fine. Can you just go get the medicine I asked for?”

Akinori looked over at Keiji, looking for some sort of answer on what to do in this situation. He knew Takahiro was _dangerous_ , in a sense, so he wasn’t sure how he’d react if he tried to take over this Issei situation. Keiji was not much help, letting out a silent sigh with a shrug of his shoulders as if to tell him, _‘Just let him take control of this until he calms down a bit.’_ The doctor let out a sigh and looked back at Takahiro. 

_‘Guess I’ll wait.’_

* * *

After handing off Issei to Keiji and Tobio, Kiyoomi headed straight for the showers wanting to wash off every bit of him that he felt disgusted with. It had been a long job of walking around in a room packed with people and germs, a gross day that he wanted to put far _far_ behind him. Nobody followed him, from what he thought, and he wanted to be the first one in and out to have to deal with the least amount of germs as possible.

He cringed when he walked in, seeing the overflowing basket of dirty laundry in the corner, and moved to his locker off on the other side of the room, most distanced from the odor-filled basket and the lockers of his co-workers. The germaphobe stripped his shirt off without a second thought and was about to lay it on the bench next to his locker.

“Woah.”

Kiyoomi turned quickly, his heart-stopping; his stomach dropping a little. He stepped back a bit, almost hitting his back against the cold locker. “What are you doing in here?”

“It’s the locker room, Omi.” Atsumu took a step closer and turned his head. “What’s on yer back?”

_''He saw.'_ Kiyoomi chewed on his lip. “Nothing. Get out," he hissed. Atsumu stepped closer again just until he was a few feet from Kiyoomi. “What are you doing?”

“Can I see it?”

“What?”

“I wanna see it.”

“Why?”

“I'm curious,” Atsumu mumbled while taking another step. He had his hands slowly reached up to reach out toward him, but it was clear he had no intention of actually touching him if Kiyoomi didn’t tell him he could. Kiyoomi held his shirt in front of his chest, standing straight as he glared at Atsumu. The twin's eyes were soft, wide eyes and lifted eyebrows. He bit his bottom lip for a second, letting it go and staring with slightly parted lips. The way that when Atsumu took another step closer and brought his hands closer to himself, it gave Kiyoomi some comfort. He knew Atsumu wouldn’t touch him if he didn’t _want_ him to.

For some reason, Asumu had told Kiyoomi everything about himself. Maybe it was the breakdown he had that day, or maybe it was that he trusted Kiyoomi, but the mysphobe just wasn’t sure why he had chosen to tell _him_. Kiyoomi didn’t give him anything about his past in return even though the twin was obviously more than curious, and he hadn’t even asked either.

He was probably dying to know just _something_ about Kiyoomi.

The mysophobe sighed and lowered his shirt, laying it on the bench beside him. “You can’t fucking tell anybody,” he hissed.

“Promise,” Atsumu said with a nod, and it came out a whisper. “Not even ‘Samu.” Kiyoomi took a deep breath, at first feeling a little unsure about it. Then he looked at Atsumu again, that overwhelming look in his eye that, for some reason, Kiyoomi had taken a silent interest in since day one.

He turned around, tilting his head down as if he needed to in order to avoid eye contact even though he had his back turned to him. It was a minute of silence, none of them saying anything as Atsumu stared at his back.

Atsumu stepped closer to get a better look at the large scar covering Kiyoomi’s back. There were medium-sized scars all over, long gashes that stretched diagonally from shoulder to waist, smaller ones but still fairly decent sizes. There was a main scar though, one that really drew the attention from everything else. It was the one that Atsumu was sure was what made Kiyoomi so afraid to show anyone else. A large burn mark that laid over his back and moved a little up his shoulders.

He moved to Kiyoomi’s side, peering at the part of the scar that began to curve over his shoulders. “Can I touch it?” Atsumu asked softly. Kiyoomi glanced over at him, and the two stared at each other for a few seconds until Kiyoomi nodded. Atsumu reached forward, pressing his fingertips lightly to the center of Kiyoomi’s back. Kiyoomi's posture straightened, but slowly, he relaxed especially when Atsumu began to skim his touch down his back. He thought he would hate that, but when it was Atsumu, he felt a brush of relief through him. It was strange, and Kiyoomi couldn't quite name the feeling.

“What happened?” Atsumu muttered. The reaction from him after his words slipped from his mouth made it clear that talking had been a complete accident. His other hand reached up and clapped over his mouth. “Sorry, didn’t mean to intervene,” he said, slowly letting his hand drop from his mouth. “Just curious, ya know?” Atsumu’s voice was soft, something that Kiyoomi didn’t know his voice could do when he had first met him, but after spending a lot of time with him, Atsumu was more than what meant the eye.

“Explosion,” Kiyoomi said in a quiet tone like he wanted to answer but didn’t want Atsumu to hear it. It was the complete opposite. He, for some reason, wanted the twin to know more. Atsumu raised an eyebrow, taking only a look at Kiyoomi before his eyes moved back to watch his fingers draw small circles on the other's back. “I got ― trapped. It was under some falling ceiling, I couldn’t move.”

“Sorry,” Atsumu mumbled. His hand trailed up to the back of Kiyoomi’s neck, brushing aside some hair that covered some more scarring. “But it’s alright now? Yer okay.” Kiyoomi bit his lip and looked to the side again. He really didn't want to see the soft look on Atsumu’s face. He’d probably forgive himself if he did. “What? There’s more, ain’t there?”

Kiyoomi stayed quiet.

“Ya don’t hafta tell me,” Atsumu said quietly. “It’s okay.” He moved in front of him, grabbing ahold of Kiyoomi’s cheeks ― which for sure was a risky thing to do, but Kiyoomi thankfully didn’t seem to care. “Hey, whateva happened, ya blame yerself for it, don’tcha?” Kiyoomi’s hands twitched hesitantly as they reached up and met with Atsumu’s elbows, fingertips touching lightly on Atsumu’s skin. He slowly nodded to Atsumu’s question. “Me too,” Atsumu said. “I felt like I coulda done more, fer my ma, ya know?” Atsumu’s face turned sad, but he still had a smile on his face, yet it was broken a bit, a story behind it that was usually pitied by others. “Now I only got ‘Samu to protect, but that’s enough fer me ‘cause he’s all I got left, and I know ‘m doin’ what I can now.” Atsumu bit his lip. “And so are ya.” He slowly lifted his hands off Kiyoomi’s face. “Sorry, I overstepped my bounds.” 

Kiyoomi didn’t say anything, staying quiet in thought as he watched Atsumu step back a bit before turning to leave. 

“Take yer shower, Omi. I’ll make sure no one walks in.”

Kiyoomi was frozen in his spot for a few before he looked down at his hands, then to the floor, then over at his locker. He dragged his finger on his bottom lip and cursed under his breath. _'_ _Do ing all I can?’_ Kiyoomi sighed. _‘Am I?’_

* * *

After bringing the man through the process that was bringing in a _prisoner_ , Tooru and Hajime began to make their way back to the part of the building they knew. Back there with all the cells, the people behind the bars that they had locked up, it gave them an uneasy feeling.

The limp Tooru had while walking was concerning. Hajime slowed his steps while walking with him. He sighed, grabbing Tooru by the arm and tugging him toward the medical ward of their building.

“Iwa?”

“Come on.”

“Where?” Tooru turned his head a little. “Are we going to check on Mattsun?”

“I think having Hinata, Kageyama, Konoha, Akaashi, _and_ Hanamaki all there is enough.” Hajime pulled Tooru’s arm over his shoulder to help him walk. He was shorter than him but even having that little helping hand was still useful to Tooru. “Let’s go.”

Hajime brought Tooru to another room in the hospital ward, tending to his wound instead of getting Akinori considering he was busy with Issei. 

“Take your pants off.”

“You’re getting a little ahead of yourself, don’t you think, Iwa?”

“I will hit you,” Hajime glared. “Just take them off.” Tooru sighed. Surprisingly, without any explanation as to _why,_ he did. “Sit on the bed.”

“Iwa, you’re―”

“I said shut up.” Hajime’s voice was stern, but his touch was soft when he reached forward and grabbed Tooru’s leg. He lifted it, unbending the knee which made Tooru wince. “It hurts that bad?” Tooru’s eyelids dropped slightly. He frowned, looking off to the side without saying anything. “What’s the story behind this?” Hajime asked while carefully setting down his leg. He moved to the cabinet, pulling out a box filled with medical wraps.

Tooru let out a sigh, leaning back on the palm of his hands as he stared up at the ceiling. The lights were bright but it didn’t seem like it bothered him. “It was a few years ago.”

“When you worked out in the field?” Hajime asked while setting the box on the bed and opening it. He looked through, trying to find a bandage fit for wrapping up an injury like this.

“Yeah,” Tooru muttered. “Yeah, when Makki worked out in the field full time.”

“Hanamaki out in the field full time?”

“Why do you think he’s so _terrifying_ ?” Tooru chuckled. “He was our canon, one that everyone was scared of because he’s good at _everything_.” He sighed. “But Keishin took him out of the field after that whole _‘stopping sleeping’_ thing started three years ago.”

“Did Hanamaki’s sleeping thing happen before or after you had your injury?”

“After,” Tooru said with a small nod. “That’s what made the guy get revealed in the first place. He was basically my replacement with Makki.” Tooru stared down at his knee, watching as Hajime carefully smoothed a Kinesio over his knee. “I tore the ligament in my knee.”

“How?”

“I pushed some little girl out of the way of something falling,” Tooru muttered. “She lived so that’s all that matters, but I was left with torn ligaments and a broken kneecap.” He winced when Hajime lifted his knee again and started to wrap it in bandages. “Multiple surgeries, some physical training, and two years later and I was able to actually walk again, but Keishin refused to put me back out in the field. It’s a year and a half since then.”

“You just started walking a year and a half ago?”

“Yeah,” he said. “That’s why our agency's name has been going down a bit. Makki couldn’t be out in the field and neither could I. Akaashi and ‘Tsum were the only people able to ― well, Yakkun but he doesn’t particularly like fieldwork like we do.” 

“So what now?” Hajime asked as he finished.

Tooru shrugged. “I usually just stay off it as much as possible and stay away from getting it injured again. That’s why I declined to go on the job to get Bokuto. I was scared to work.” He sighed. “Anyway, yeah, that’s it basically. There’s more but it’s just boring details.”

“Like?”

“Like how I became an alcoholic for a short period of time in a loop of depression.”

“I see,” Hajime mumbled. “Well, come on. Let’s get you some drugs from the pharmacy,” he said while holding out a hand. Tooru looked between the outstretched gesture and Hajime. He sighed and pressed his palm to his, sliding off the bed.

“Yeah, thanks.”

* * *

“I said connect those wires, not _those_ wires.”

“Okay, okay, I forgot,” Tetsurou mumbled. He stuck his tongue out as he moved his face closer to the device filled with wiring that sat on the table. Morisuke stretched out an arm across his chest and pushed him back a little causing Tetsurou to fully backup and raise an eyebrow in return.

“Don’t put your face that close to your work.”

“Huh? Why?”

“Because, idiot,” Morisuke said while picking up his own as well as a small screwdriver. “If you fuck up and it explodes, say bye to your face.” He looked up across the room where a co-worker sat by a table near the corner working on his own project. “Do you see the scar on Watari’s face?” Tetsurou squinted. He didn’t need to look that hard to see the discolored skin on the side of the worker's face. Tetsurou nodded in response. “He was only three inches away when he slipped up and his work exploded in his face.” Morisuke shrugged and looked back to the small, metal box in his hand, sticking the screwdriver in carefully. “He was lucky it wasn’t bigger.” Tetsurou was about to say something and ask how big it was, but he was interrupted when someone stepped into the room and grabbed Morisuke’s attention before he could.

“Hey, Yaku,” someone said. He had short, brown hair, dots for eyebrows, a bright expression on his face ― he usually did whenever Tetsurou had seen him around the room. “The guys are back.”

“Really?” Morisuke asked with a raised eyebrow.

“And something’s wrong with one of them.”

“Huh?” Tetsurou said. “Who?”

The guy shrugged. “I’m not sure. He joined with you though. Tall guy, messy hair.”

“Matsukawa,” Tetsurou mumbled under his breath. Morisuke took a glance at him. He set his things down on the table and stood up.

“Thanks, Komori.” Morisuke put a hand on Tetsurou’s shoulder. “Come on, idiot.”

* * *

“Can you get this damp again?” Takahiro asked while holding the cloth out to Keiji. The assassin sighed and grabbed it from his hand, heading over to the small sink in the room and running it under the cold water. 

“Can you explain more than you have been?” Keiji asked.

“Just a really nasty drug,” Takahiro muttered while putting the back of his hand to Issei’s forehead. “I’ve had it before, it’s a bitch.” Keiji handed him the damp, cold rag. “Thanks,” he said, grabbing it and placing it back on the unconscious one’s forehead. Keiji watched as Takahiro leaned on his knees, staring at Issei, eyes not taking a moment to leave him. He sighed and turned, knowing that he’d have to give Takahiro a few hours before being able to get him to elaborate more. 

He turned to the others that were still in the room. “Hinata, Kageyama,” Keiji said, grabbing the attention of the other two who were standing near the wall of the room. “Can you guys return the weapons to the armory?”

“Sure!” Shouyou said. “Come on, Kageyama,” he said while tugging on Tobio’s arm. The gunman groaned as he was dragged out of the room, but nevertheless, he let the shorter one pull him out. After that, Keiji turned to the doctor in the room who stood staring at a clipboard. He was trying to figure out what Takahiro wouldn’t tell him. “Konoha,” Keiji spoke, stepping up to him. Akinori pulled his attention from his clipboard and looked to Keiji. “Give Hanamaki an hour or two to calm down then ask him again.”

Akinori looked over at Takahiro and nodded. “Alright," he agreed with a sigh.

“I’ll be back in a bit, okay?” 

“Yeah, I got it here. Thanks, Akaashi.” Keiji nodded and left the room.

**  
  
**

Takahiro stayed by Issei’s side, grinding his teeth slightly as he watched Issei’s breath hitch from time to time. It looked like it hurt, and it probably did. Takahiro remembered the feeling in his lungs that felt as if an air bubble was trapped. Issei had a red on his face from being so overheated, there was a heavy rise and fall of his chest, his limbs would twitch randomly.

_‘Why’d it have to be Matsukawa?’_

* * *

Tobio and Shouyou lugged back all the weapons to the armory. It was a box filled with guns, safety turned off on all of them, and small knives. They walked into the weapon-filled room, setting the box on the counter.

“Here, Hitoka!” Shouyou said as he pushed the box more on the counter. “The weapons we borrowed.”

The blonde smiled, opening the bulletproof glass door that separated them and pulled the box through, setting it on a small table next to her in the back room. “I’m glad to see you guys are back. How did it go?” Hitoka asked while leaning on the counter. 

“Well, we’re all fine and we all got our targets, except for Matsu,” Shouyou muttered.

“What?” Hitoka stood up straight. “What happened?”

“Not sure,” Tobio muttered. “Hanamaki isn’t telling us much.”

“Hana?” Hitoka asked. “Why would only he know?”

Shouyou shrugged. “Iwaizumi and Oikawa said that Matsukawa’s drink was spiked and only Hanamaki would know what it is.” The assassin frowned. “But he hasn’t really told anyone anything yet.” Shouyou’s eyes lit up a bit. “Are you close with him, Hitoka? Do you think you can ask him?” He asked. Hitoka thought about Takahiro and how he was. Usually, it took him a bit, but he would talk after a while ― especially if you knew how to properly bribe him and he trusted you. Thankfully, for Hitoka, she was one of those people that Takahiro trusted with his life.

“Yeah,” Hitoka said with a small nod. “Yeah, I think I might be able to do something.” She opened the box filled with borrowed weapons and placed a gun on the table while reaching for a clipboard that sat in a holding on the wall. “You guys should go rest up, I’m sure you’re exhausted. I’ll finish putting these away and talk with Hana.”

Shouyou nodded. “Thanks, Hitoka!” He grabbed Tobio’s arm and began dragging him once again. “Let’s go, Kageyama.”

“Quit pulling me.”

“Quit being dramatic!” 

* * *

Hitoka was quick to put everything away, checking things off the clipboard as she pulled them out of the box to make sure everything was returned to her, setting them back in the display cases in the room and locking them. She closed up the armory before heading for the kitchen.

The blonde opened the door to the kitchen, peering around the empty room as she let the door shut behind her. Hitoka stepped in, making her way to the office. She walked up to the open back door, drumming her knuckles on the wall to make her presence known to the figure that hunched over his desk.

Osamu lifted his head up from the book, his expression softening once he noticed the woman at the door. “Oh, hey, sweetheart," he muttered quietly. Osamu set the book flat on the desk and leaned back in his seat, arms stretching over his head. “What’s up?” Hitoka stepped in the room, taking a seat in the chair on the other side of the desk. She gave a small frown, staring at her hands in her lap. “Hitoka?” Osamu sat up, leaning on the desk toward her a little.

“The guys are back but something’s wrong.” Osamu turned his head a little, and Hitoka sighed. “It’s Matsukawa.”

“What ‘bout him?”

Hitoka shrugged. “Not sure, but obviously, Hana isn’t taking it well.” She reached to the desk and messed with the leaves of a small plant. “We should make cream puffs for him or something,” she muttered. “It might get him to talk, too.”

“Ya really have a soft spot fer him, huh?”

“Jealous?” Hitoka asked with a smile stretching on her face. Osamu stared at her, an unimpressed look on his face, but she knew it was all jokes and laughed. She stood up, reaching out an arm to him. “Come on. For obvious reasons, I need your help.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Twitter @mattsuhana


	20. Bandages and worry (reprise)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SORRY FOR FORGETTING TO POST ON FRIDAYS AHH

**MAR. 15**

Atsumu knocked on the office door with his one free hand, the other held papers. The door was open, which was weird considering whose door it was. The head of hair that sat at the desk looked over at him, their eyebrows relaxing when they noticed the twin at the door.

“Atsumu,” Kiyoomi spoke. “What?”

“What’cha workin’ on?” Atsumu asked instead as he stepped in. He stood on the other side of the desk, leaning over a little to look at his screen but not enough to intrude in the other’s personal space.

“Nothing really,” Kiyoomi lied. He sighed, leaning back in his chair. “Why?”

“I got new info,” Atsumu said with a smile as he raised a paper, wiggling it in the back and forth. He handed it off to Kiyoomi who took it, eyes skimming over the paper. “Two hours away.”

“You want to leave now?”

“Well, no, since we just got back. Kinda don’t wanna leave till I know Matsu’s ‘lright, but tomorrow morn’,” Atsumu said while standing up with a stretch. “If yer not too busy.”

Kiyoomi looked at his computer screen, staring at the blank text document that he was supposed to fill out. He still had his side of the report that he had to fill out, and he was sure that Atsumu did too but chose not to and went to focus on digging into more of this revenge business. They were only back for a few hours, Kiyoomi had just returned to his desk after a good shower and making a cup of coffee. A part of him was tried, yet the other half was dying to accept Atsumu’s request to go with him.

“If ya don’t wanna come with, ya can just say so―”

“I’ll go,” Kiyoomi cut off, handing the papers back to the twin. “Seven AM?”

A smile stretched on Atsumu's face, and he nodded. “Seven works, Omi.”

* * *

“This is stupid.”

“You’re the only one free to do it right now, Hanamaki.”

“I’m not free, you literally just kicked me out from doing what I was doing.”

“Panicking is not doing anything.”

“Akaashi is right! You were just freaking out a bunch,” Koutarou intervened. Takahiro looked over at him, passing him a cruel glare and made a shiver run up Koutarou’s spine. The fighter shook his shoulders, glad that Keiji was walking between the two of them as they headed down the hallway.

Takahiro had been kicked out of Issei’s hospital room so that Akinori, the actual doctor, could take over. He had returned with the medication and threatened to knock Takahiro out if he didn’t let him do his job. There was a slight hesitation on Takahiro’s part, but he never got to fully deny Akinori when Keiji grabbed his arm and pulled him from the room. Koutarou met them in the hallway, deciding to tag along with them on whatever they were doing.

“Hey, what are we doing?” Koutarou asked.

“Hanamaki has to report a small summary to Keishin since no one else is free to right now,” Keiji explained shortly.

“Where is everyone else?” Koutarou frowned.

“That’s what I’m asking,” Takahiro muttered under his breath. “Why does it have to be me?”

“Because,” Keiji said, “Iwaizumi and Oikawa are focusing on Oikawa’s injury―”

“Oikawa got injured?” Takahiro raised an eyebrow at him. 

“His knee was kicked in apparently from what Iwaizumi told me.”

“Oh,” Takahiro said quietly. _‘Shit.’_

“Sakusa and Atsumu left early to sleep since they have a job early in the morning tomorrow.”

“Well, that’s not fair. Tell them to not.”

“It’s a _personal_ job.”

“Ooh, fancy. Don’t care,” Takahiro grumbled. “He can still explain.”

“It’s Atsumu’s personal job.”

“The revenge?” Takahiro questioned. Keiji nodded. “The Miya Revenge Arc.”

Keiji just shook his head. “Kageyama is working with Hinata on something, and as you know, Matsukawa is unconscious.”

“Just say you’re coming up with excuses and go.”

“I’m just coming up with excuses,” Keiji deadpanned.

“Fine,” Takahiro mumbled. “Be like that then.”

  
  


They entered Keishin’s office, Takahiro sitting at the other side on the desk with his forehead on the table, Keiji standing off by the wall ready to listen, Keishin sitting in his office chair, Koutarou laid on the couch staring at the ceiling but still ready to tune in as well.

“So,” Keishin started to say, “a small run down?”

“Why can’t I just type up a report that you read?”

“Because I said so.”

Takahiro lifted his head and sighed. “We went in groups, all of us did what we were supposed to do,” Takahiro began. “Except when Hinata and I were going to leave, Matsukawa showed up in the bathroom, so he just came with us.” He gave a shrug and fell back in his seat, staring up at the ceiling. “We got caught carrying the body back to the car, and it wasn’t exactly a fight we could win so we surrendered and got our asses locked in the basement.” Takahiro slowly lifted his head and bit his lip, frowning a little with furrowed eyebrows.

“What is it?” Keishin asked.

“Matsukawa uh,” Takahiro began, “he ripped the chains from the ceiling.”

“What?” Keiji asked.

“Yeah!” Koutarou said from the couch. He sat up, all eyes in the room moved toward him. “He does that.”

“He just, does _that_?” Keiji asked.

Koutarou nodded.

“From where?” Keiji questioned Takahiro this time.

“The fucking cement ceiling.” Takahiro chuckled with a scoff. “Hey, I wouldn’t believe it if I didn’t see it but never in my life have I seen someone do that.” He looked back at Keishin. “As he was getting down, a guard was getting in the cage to stop him, but he was kind of too late and Matsukawa knocked him out.” Takahiro’s expression saddened, and his voice faltered, talking quieter as he continued to explain. “That’s when the drug started to kick in and Hinata and I helped him out. We were making our way down the hallway when Iwaizumi and Oikawa showed up to help. Hinata requested we take prisoner the guy Matsukawa knocked out too, so I think Iwaizumi and Oikawa brought him to the cells.”

Keishin nodded. “Are you going to do a report?” He asked.

“If you want," Takahiro said with a shrug. “Can I go now?” The boss groaned and rolled his eyes. He raised a hand, flicking his wrist, and Takahiro didn’t waste a second to jump up and leave the room.

“Bokuto,” he said, and the owl looked over to him. “I wanna know more at Matsukawa than what’s on file.”

  
  


Keiji and Koutarou walked back to the offices after having talked with Keishin. He learned more than he thought he would, and he had no idea that everything that happened to Issei did. It was interesting to learn, but it explained him a little. His observation skills, fighting technique, quietness.

“Hey,” Koutarou spoke up. “Wanna go out?”

“Out?” Keiji asked.

Koutarou nodded. “Yeah! Like, dinner. It might help get your mind off of things.”

“Oh,” Keiji mumbled. “Tonight?” Koutarou nodded again. “Sure,” Keiji said, and he smiled. “Yeah.”

* * *

Tetsurou and Morisuke walked the halls to head to the medical ward. They walked to the front desk, Morisuke leaning up to look at the familiar woman on the other side.

“Hey, we heard Matsukawa is in a room?” The secretary looked at her screen real quick and nodded to Morisuke's question. “Which one?”

“First one, room one,” Kiyoko spoke. “Hanamaki brought him to the closest one.”

“Was he panicking?”

She scoffed. “You have no idea.” She looked back down to the pad of notes she had been writing on. “You can head right in, Hanamaki isn’t in there.”

“Where is he?” Tetsurou asked.

“Akaashi and Bokuto dragged him to Ukai.”

“I see,” Morisuke mumbled. “Thanks, Kiyoko.”

Kiyoko nodded with a smile. “Of course.”

  
  


“She was hot,” Tetsurou said as they began to head to the rooms.

“Shut up, would you?” Morisuke groaned. 

“Why? Not your type?” Morisuke elbowed Tetsurou in the side to get him to shut up which worked. They reached the door without him saying another word and stepped in. 

  
  


Akinori stood by the bed with a clipboard. He looked over at the two when they walked in. “Yaku, Kuroo, hey,” he said. “I was just about to go get some medicine.”

“More?” Morisuke asked while walking in the room. He pointed to the IV bag already hooked up to his unconscious co-worker, considering it was full and he was confused as to why Akinori needed to get more. Issei’s face was still red though it had died down after a few hours of the drugs pumping through his system. Whatever Takahiro told Akinori to get actually worked.

“I only got half of what Hanamaki told me to incase it didn’t work, then I was going to take it into my own hands.” He sighed, clicking off his pen and sliding it in his pocket. “But it actually did work so,” Akinori shrugged, “guess I should listen to him.”

“Hanamaki knows what it is and you don’t?”

“I’ve never seen a drug do this to someone before, no,” Akinori muttered. “I’ll be right back,” he said, and Akinori left the room.

  
  


Tetsurou approached the bed, sitting in the empty chair next to it. He stared at Issei’s face, eyebrows knitting harshly. Morisuke watched him scratch his leg.

“What?” Morisuke asked. “What’s wrong?”

Tetsurou shook his head. “Nothing. I mean, I’ve seen Matsukawa go through some stuff.” He sighed and leaned back in the chair. “Guy doesn’t deserve this.”

“Like what?”

“His past isn’t pretty, none of ours are, really.” Tetsurou shrugged. “I probably had the easiest one.”

“What?” Morisuke scoffed. “Your _‘Bokuto pulled me into this job because I was friends with him’_ story?”

“Did you think that was a lie?” Tetsurou asked as he raised an eyebrow. 

“It seems too simple.”

“I know,” he muttered. Tetsurou looked back to Issei. “That’s why I feel like everyone else is on an entirely different level than I am.”

“You’re still good at shit,” Morisuke mumbled under his breath.

“What?”

“Nothing.” Morisuke sighed. “He’s unconscious so there’s not much we can do, and you’re just going to get sad looking at him like this.” Morisuke tugged on his arm. “Come on.” 

Tetsurou took one last look at Issei before standing. “Yeah,” he muttered. “Yeah, let’s go.”

* * *

Tobio glanced over at Shouyou as they walked back from the armory. They wanted to peek in on Issei and see how he was doing before going their separate ways, probably to the showers and then head home. Getting kidnapped was a tiring job for Shouyou, and climbing up and down trees was a tiring job for Tobio.

“Hey,” Tobio spoke up. The manipulator looked over at him. He tilted his head a little and gave a soft _‘hum?’_ “Where’d you learn to do all that?”

“Do all of what?” Shouyou asked.

“I saw you from where I was in the trees. You were in the parking lot, you killed that guy.”

“Oh,” Shouyou mumbled. He looked back in front of him. 

“How’d you learn to be that smooth?”

“Kageyama, are you impressed with me?” Shouyou teased and elbowed his side. Tobio glared, squinting his eyes a little which just made the other laugh. “We all have our pasts, Kageyama.”

“What’s yours?” Shouyou’s face fell. He bit his lip. “What? A story for another time?”

Shouyou let out a nervous laugh. He scratched the back of his neck. “Yeah, kind of. Not really a story for the walk in the hallway.”

“Be vague then,” Tobio said. “I’ll work with it.” Shouyou sighed, stuffing his hands in his pockets. He fell silent, trying to think of a way to word it so Tobio would understand without having to say it flat out.

“You ever get really mad at someone for hurting someone you love?” Shouyou asked. Tobio nodded. “It’s like that,” Shouyou said quietly. “Someone was really _really_ mean, and I was tired of it.” Tobio stared at the side of his face as they walked, their steps were slowed but they still progressed down the long hallway back to the offices. He tried to piece it together, add together two and two, but it was way too short to even figure out. 

_‘Who was mean? ‘Tired of it’? Tired of what? What did he do?’_ Tobio didn’t question any further though. He gave Shouyou a nod and they kept walking, a few more steps before they separated ways in the hallway. Shouyou headed home, probably to take a shower there, and Tobio headed to his office, he planned on staying after a little later to work on shooting.

Maybe he’d even think more into Shouyou’s story.

_“Someone was really really mean, and I was tired of it.”_

Tobio desperately wanted to crack the code further.

* * *

Takahiro was finally able to go back to Issei’s room. It wasn’t like he was gone for long, but it felt long for him. (Reality was like, ten minutes, maybe less). He opened the door to an empty room apart from Issei who laid unconscious in the bed. Still.

  
Still just laying there.

Takahiro sighed and moved to the chair next to the bed, subconsciously grabbing Issei’s hand and letting his forehead drop to the bed. 

“God, I’m so sorry,” he muttered under his breath. It wasn’t even like it was his fault, nothing about this was his fault. He didn’t make the drug nor did he give it to him. All Takahiro knew was what it was and what it did, what it felt like, and how long it lasted given the dose. Not to mention how fatal it could be and how it could just be pure pain.

Akinori walked into the room again, a small bag in his hands. Takahiro leaned over on the bed, silent, not reacting to Akinori walking in the room at all. He seemed a lot calmer than he had been hours ago when they finally had gotten back. The doctor walked up to him, carefully placing a hand on his shoulder. Takahiro snapped up, looking over at Akinori.

“Oh, Konoha,” he said quietly. “Hi.”

“Are you ready to explain to me now?”

Takahiro sighed, shaking his shoulders as he sat up straight. He pulled his feet up on the chair, hugging his knees and resting his chin on top of them. His eyes were locked on Issei now, a sad look on his face. “Yeah, probably.” He took a deep breath. “It’s a drug I use for torturing.”

“Torturing?”

“I assume whoever drugged him really wanted him to be in pain,” Takahiro muttered quietly. “It lasts for _hours_ , and usually, it’s a fatal method.” 

Akinori stayed quiet. _‘Fatal.’_

“Don’t worry,” Takahiro said. “The drug itself isn’t what’s fatal, but it is what’s incredibly painful.” He reached forward, his feet falling and planting on the ground, the back of his hand moving to rest on Issei's forehead. “It’s a way to get them to talk, tell everything before they beg to just be put out of their misery.” He brushed back a few strands of loose hair. “I use it sometimes, had it used on me.”

“When does it end?”

“Depends how much they’ve given him,” Takahiro said with a shrug. “I assume it can’t be much longer.”

“Seriously?”

Takahiro nodded. “The drug changes the tint of a drink, and I’m sure Matsukawa isn’t stupid enough to drink something that isn’t the original color meaning however much they put in couldn’t have been a lot for him to not notice.” He frowned and turned his head a bit. “It’s also kind of bitter.”

“So when do you think?”

Takahiro shrugged. “Maybe tomorrow he’ll wake up, hopefully since that should be when it wears off, but he could wake up in the middle of it and have to go through some of it.” He looked over at Akinori. “Can you get me a cup of coffee?”

“You’re going to pull an all-nighter just to keep an eye on him?”

The cream puff lover gave a weak laugh. “I’ve been up for two days at least now. Staying up one more night isn’t hard, especially since I am definitely not on a normal sleeping schedule yet.”

Akinori nodded. “I guess that can’t be fixed.”

“Nope,” Takahiro said. The doctor sighed and handed the bag to Takahiro. “Huh?”

“The drugs you told me to get. I’m sure you know how to give them to him at a balanced dosage?” The doctor asked.

“Of course.”

“Then I trust you with it.” Takahiro muttered a soft _‘thanks_ ’ under his breath and grabbed the bag, setting it on the floor next to his chair. “I need to check up on Oikawa,” Akinori said through a sigh.

“His knee?” Takahiro asked. Akinori nodded. “Shit.”

“Yeah,” Akinori said. “That and then just a check up on the others to make sure nothing happened.”

“Have fun,” Takahiro muttered, pulling his feet back up. “I’ll be here waiting for my coffee.”

The door closed and Takahiro was left alone, nothing but the ragged breathing coming from Issei and the beep of the machines.

_‘Hour six.’_

* * *

Reading wasn’t something that Tetsurou loved to do especially when he had to put his own thinking power into it. He tossed down the book with a heavy sigh, slumping down in the chair and letting his head lazily fall without any support.

“What?”

“It’s boring.”

Morisuke sighed and let his hands fall into his lap, the metal box and tool looking as if they were going to fall from the loose grip. “Then go back to your office ― or go home. You don’t _have_ to be near me.”

“But I wanna learn about the bombs too.”

“Then _read._ ”

“You act like it’s easy.”

“Can you not read?” Morisuke asked with a raised eyebrow.

“No,” Tetsurou tilted his head to look at Morisuke. “I stabby stab.” Morisuke let out a big sigh, lifting his current project back up and putting his attention to it. “Okay, but you have to like me to keep me here,” Tetsurou bothered.

“I’m not keeping you anywhere. I said you can leave,” Morisuke muttered while pointing toward the door over his shoulder with the screwdriver.

“I don’t want to,” Tetsurou pouted. 

“Then stop complaining.”

The taller one sighed and picked up the book again. “Fine.”

* * *

Hitoka carried the box with both hands instead of holding her purse -- Osamu carried that for her after asking her if she wanted him to carry it. She had said no at first, but he insisted and said that she had to carry the sweets. So, as if Hitoka needed two hands, she and Osamu walked to the medical ward of their building and headed to the first room there. Opening the door, the two of them saw Takahiro. He sat crisscross on the chair, staring blankly at the beeping machines. It was clear he was deep in thought as he didn’t even take notice of the two Miyas walking in the door.

“Hana?” Hitoka called out, but she didn’t get a response. She stepped closer. “Hanamaki?” Nothing again. “Takahiro,” she said. This time, she touched his shoulder. He jumped a little, turning to Hitoka.

“Fuck, that’s the second time someone’s scared me,” he muttered. His eyes moved to the box. “What’s that?”

“Your favorite,” Hitoka said with a smile as she handed them to Takahiro. “I assume you’re going to stay by Matsukawa through the night so why not some sweets for a powerup?” Takahiro took the box, placing it in his lap to open it and stare at the freshly baked profiteroles. He glanced over at Issei laying in the bed, thank god he was still unconscious.

“Yeah, I plan on it, thanks, Token,” he mumbled. 

“Osamu and I are about to head home.” She noticed the empty cup of coffee on the floor next to him and frowned. “Want me to get you a new cup of coffee before I leave?” Hitoka asked.

“Osamu, I’m sorry, I’m marrying her.”

Osamu scoffed, a smile tugging on his lips as he crossed his arms. “‘M sure ya are.”

“That’s permission,” Takahiro said quickly. “You can’t take that back.” Hitoka smiled and reached over, kissing the top of Takahiro’s head. 

“I know you’re used to pulling all nights for _days_ but you should start trying to get back on track now," she said.

“Yeah, of course, but I’m nowhere near a normal schedule.”

“So still take care of yourself. Don’t stress yourself all night about him.”

Takahiro looked over at Issei again, letting a sigh escape his lips. “I know,” he mumbled. “I know, I just hope he doesn’t wake up until it’s over.”

“Just make sure you eat and stay hydrated, Hana. I’m sure Matsukawa is going to be fine”

Takahiro lifted the box of cream puffs showing that, yes, he would, in fact, be eating.

“Eat real food,” Osamu clarified.

“ _Eat real food_ ” Takahiro mocked which just got him a glare in return. He chuckled, shifting more on the seat. “Keep it in your pants, Osamu. I will.” Hitoka started to back out of the room, Osamu had turned around after the mocking comment was made and began to head to the door to leave.

She pointed to him. “I’m waking up at three in the morning to check on you," Hitoka threatened.

“I doubt an alarm is going to wake you, _The Miya Yachi Hitoka_ , up from a deep sleep but okay.”

Hitoka rolled her eyes. “Then don’t make me have to.” She waved with a smile. “Goodnight, Hana.”

“Night.”

* * *

Koutarou drove Keiji to this nice restaurant. Over all his years of living in this area, this was Keiji’s first time actually going there. It had white blue walls with gold trimming. The lights weren’t too bright, and they weren’t too dull. It seemed like a light-hearted place, one for people to go to if they didn’t want the feeling of a fancy restaurant and the pressure to get something expensive.

“You seem like the type of person to like back seats. Do you want a corner booth? Back table next to the window?” Keiji bit his lip to stop the smile from tugging at his lips. He shrugged in response.

“Whichever you want, Bokuto. You invited me out.”

“But I want you to be comfortable."

“Feeling is mutual.” Koutarou grinned and wrapped an arm around Keiji’s shoulder. He led him to the back table and moved away from him to pull out a chair for him. “Thank you.” Koutarou hummed with a nod and sat down at the two-person table across from Keiji. “Bokuto?”

“Mhm?”

“Why’d you ask me out here?”

_“‘Ask out’_. So you admit it’s a date!” Koutarou laughed.

“What?” Keiji tried his hardest to calm himself down with the warm feeling fluttering up in his cheeks. _‘Come on. You’re a pro assassin.’_ “No, this isn’t a date, Bokuto.” Keiji mentally sighed.

“Aw, come on,” Koutarou whined as he let his head hit the table. “I thought I was doing good,” he mumbled. Keiji smiled and reached over, running his fingers through the mixed colored hair. How Koutarou managed to make it like that was beyond him. 

“Fine, it’s a date," Keiji admitted. Koutarou’s head popped up only slightly so Keiji could still have his fingers in his hair while also being able to make eye contact. Keiji felt himself freeze, and slowly, he removed his hand from Koutarou’s hair. “Sorry,” he mumbled quietly. Koutarou shook his head quickly as it rose from the table, and he sat up straight.

“It’s fine, ‘Kaashi!” Koutarou said with a smile. “It felt good honestly.” Keiji brought his phone up to his face and hid his mouth behind it. He just nodded. “But I asked you out because―” Koutarou paused and looked up at the ceiling, thinking. He shrugged. “I dunno, I knew you were free, and I―” he paused and laughed nervously, “obviously like you,” he mumbled quietly under his breath.

Keiji ignored his face fill with flames, and he bit it back. “Well, thanks for thinking of me, Bokuto,” he said instead. Koutarou quickly nodded. Just seconds later, a waiter walked over and took their orders. Keiji just ordered a hot chocolate with caramel and Koutarou got this chocolate shake with whipped cream and a cherry.

“Hey, ‘Kaashi,” Koutarou started to say while he lifted up the cherry by the stem, wrapping his tongue around it and pulling the berry off the stem. “What got you into being an assassin?” Keiji was surprised by the sudden question. He stared down at his drink, slowly stirring the small, red, plastic straw in the drink. He watched as the light brown color of the caramel mixed in with the dark chocolate color.

“Well,” Keiji started to say, trying to remember what exactly brought him into his current organization. “I grew up around the type of business, I guess.” Keiji shrugged. “I grew up on the streets, and one day I ran into Oikawa.”

“Oikawa? Really?”

Keiji nodded. “Yeah, he found Hanamaki and I the same year actually.” Keiji lifted his drink to his lips and took a small sip since the drink was still pretty hot. “Oikawa told us they were offering us jobs and asked us to come with him. A job is a job,” he finished with a shrug.

“Woah, and they just knew about you?” 

Keiji nodded, “Yeah, yeah, I uh,” he chuckled, “I stole from a lot of people.” Koutarou was drinking his milkshake when Keiji finished so he couldn’t say anything. It gave Keiji the chance to speak. “What about you? How’d you get with Nekoma before you came to Fukurodani?”

“Mm!” Koutarou quickly swallowed down what he had in his mouth and slammed down the glass on the table. The whipped cream moved around, slipping a little over the edge. “I literally grew up in it. My parents were the bosses.”

“Seriously?” Keiji asked. He had the idea that that was the case, but he was never a hundred percent sure.

“And with the asshole. I had been training ever since I was a kid, but I still went through high school,” Koutarou began to explain. “I kept what I did as a secret, but Kuroo was my best friend and it wasn’t long before my enemies caught onto that.” Koutarou dribbled his fingers on his glass. “After Kuroo learned what I did, he wanted to join, so,” he shrugged, “we let him. He chose to use knives, and it wasn’t long before Kuroo became this killing machine―” Koutarou flicked his wrist as he talked, quickly moving through Tetsurou’s life story.

“So, you’ve been an assassin ever since you were ― how old specifically?”

“Seventeen, give or take.” Koutarou gave a small shrug out of uncertainty. “My family, at first, didn’t want to drag me into it even though it was their _everything_ ,” Koutarou explained while stirring his drink. “What age for you?” He suddenly asked.

“Thirteen,” Keiji replied as he lifted the glass to his lips once again. 

“Wow,” Koutarou mumbled out. “Well, seventeen was the year I started _killing_ people. Before I worked with cartography.” 

Keiji nodded. “That’s why I picked you to sketch that building. It said you did that in your work history.”

“Really?” Koutarou asked, and Keiji nodded again. “Cool,” he mumbled.

  
  


Keiji and Koutarou talked the whole time, learning about each other was easy for the two of them. There was something in Keiji that easily understood Koutarou, and he loved it and so did the owl. It made it easier to talk with him, chime in, listen to him. 

It was so easy for them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Twitter @mattsuhana
> 
> I feel like the bokuaka in this entire fic is so sloppy but that's because I wrote them so much I think I burnt myself out


	21. A sudden job

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW // Fire, burning buildings

**MAR. 17**

Hajime stayed by Tooru the two days after they returned as if he was keeping a close eye on him because of his injury. He did consistent check-ins, walking into Tooru’s office to ask him how he felt. It was pretty frequent, and it got to the point where Hajime ended up just hanging out with Tooru whenever the two had free time.

  
  


“Iwa?” Tooru asked while he looked up from the magazine he was looking at. He had his back to the armrest of the couch in his office, feet laid out on the other’s lap as he sat and stared at his phone. They weren’t being handed a job and both of them had their reports finished the night they had come back and sent them to Keishin. “Why are you keeping up with me?”

“What do you mean?”

“Like, keeping a close eye on me?”

Hajime shrugged, looking back to his phone. “I can’t be a little worried? I want you back on the field.”

Tooru nodded and bit his lip. “Okay,” he said quietly. “Do you want to come with me to therapy then?”

“You have other issues?” Tooru rolled his eyes, rolling up the magazine in his hand and hitting Hajime in the arm with it. The other chuckled, looking over at him with a smile. It made Tooru feel warm but he shook it off. 

“Physical therapy,” Tooru said.

Hajime looked back to his phone and nodded. “Yeah.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, I’ll go with you.”

“Okay,” Tooru said as he opened the magazine up again. He bit his lip, hiding the small hint of a smile behind the papers. “Okay.”

* * *

Keishin knocked on the office door, alerting the attention of the man sitting on the desk. He glanced up, curving his lip slightly as he nodded at him.

“Sup, boss,” Takahiro called out. “What do you need?”

“You left Matsukawa.”

Takahiro sighed. “Yeah,” he muttered. “Konoha kicked me out, actually. He didn’t like me being there for almost two days straight.” He tapped his fingers on his desk. "Matsukawa woke up anyway, he's just resting at this point."

“Good call on his part,” Keishin said. “Come with me ― you’re good on sleep, right?”

“Mhm,” Takahiro nodded as he stood. “Decided to sleep after he kicked me out. I got a few hours a bit ago.”

“Great. Come on.”

  
  


Takahiro followed Keishin down the hallway, and they didn’t turn at his office as the cream puff lover thought they would. Instead, they kept walking, taking a turn to the section of the building that was normally left cold. They walked past the entrance of the section of the building, not saying a word to the security there and only giving them a nod as they passed by.

“The person that they brought back a few days ago,” Keishin began to say.

“The one that Matsukawa knocked out?” Takahiro asked.

Keishin nodded. “Yes, them,” he said. “I want you to run through a _session_ with him.”

“Session? Nice,” Takahiro grinned. “What do you want?”

“His organization’s goals, specifically against ours and other allies.”

“And if they don’t have any?” Takahiro asked. They reached a room. There was a window that was built into the wall, and Takahiro knew that from being in the room, it was a one-way mirror. On the outside where they stood, people could watch Takahiro torture another human being. He wasn’t sure why other people would want to watch it, but after that whole _‘torturing so much that he killed someone’_ , he was sure it was there to keep Takahiro from going too far.

“Do what you want.”

Takahiro chuckled. “You got it.”

* * *

Keiji opened the door to Tooru’s office without a knock, and it turned the heads to the two sitting on the couch. They both instantly pulled their attention away from their focuses, turning to look at their co-worker’s burst in.

“No, yeah, come right in, Akaashi,” Tooru muttered.

“Get ready.”

“For what?”

“Emergency.”

Tooru raised an eyebrow, lifting his legs off of Hajime’s lap and planting his feet on the ground. He stood up and tossed down the magazine. “What is it?” He asked.

“Huge fire," Keiji quickly said. "Kageyama and Hinata are already down there. Come on.”

* * *

Hajime and Tooru arrived at the fire with Koutarou and Keiji. The four of them were quick to head over the police tape and past the controlled crowd of worried citizens to the firetrucks and ambulances. They headed to one fire truck ― one with four other people they knew. 

“What’s happening?” Tooru asked. Kiyoomi glanced over from his seat on the fire truck. He sat on the back of it, a laptop in his lap, a set of headphones over his ears. Kiyoomi looked at the fire quickly and bit his lip before putting his attention back to the computer. “Sakusa.”

“What?” Kiyoomi was caught off guard. It was strange for him, Tooru thought. He was usually so well put together, though something about this was off for him. It was obvious enough that he was about to say something about it, but there was a hand on Tooru’s shoulder. He looked behind him to see Atsumu.

“Omi,” Atsumu said instead. “What’s happenin’?”

“Kageyama and Hinata went in twenty minutes ago but haven’t replied,” Kiyoomi finally answered _somebody_. 

“This has been going on for twenty minutes?” Hajime asked.

“They’re keeping it controlled, they just can’t seem to get the fire out,” Kiyoomi muttered.

“We’re heading in then. We need to get the rest of the people out _and_ Shouyou and Kageyama,” Koutarou said. He moved around the side of the fire truck, he was pretty familiar around them considering he grew up around working with emergency services. There were a few suits in there, but there wasn’t enough for everyone there. “Uh, there’s only four. Who’s going in?”

“I’ll go,” Hajime said, and Koutarou handed him a suit.

“I will too―” Tooru began to say.

“No.”

Tooru turned his head at Hajime. “Iwa?”

“Oikawa isn’t going.” Hajime grabbed the other suit Koutarou was about to hand Tooru and handed it to Tetsurou. “Here.”

“Thanks, sexy.”

“Don’t.” Tetsurou just chuckled and began to put on the suit. “And then Atsumu,” Hajime said, grabbing the second to last suit and handing it to the twin. “Then Bokuto. That’s it. Me, Kuroo, Bokuto, and Atsumu. Get dressed.”

* * *

“Kageyama,” Shouyou said as they made their way through the burning building. Even in the protected firefighter suits, it was still hotter than all hell. They wore oxygen masks to protect themselves from the smoke that filled the air as they searched the crumbling layers of the building for anyone still trapped inside. Shouyou stared at the oxygen tank strapped on Tobio’s back. It was low, dangerously low. He must have grabbed a nearly empty tank without realizing it, and without it, Tobio would suffer breathing in the smoke of the building.

“Hinata, we don’t have time to talk. Just keep moving.”

Shouyou sighed and slipped off his own oxygen tank. “Stop moving,” he said, grabbing Tobio’s shoulders from behind and pulling him to a stop. He worked as fast as he could, scared that Tobio would get annoyed very quickly and turn to check what he was doing. The manipulator switched their tanks around -- his tank for Tobio’s. “There. Your tank was messed up," he lied.

“Whatever, come on.” Tobio kept moving.

And Shouyou, now with a low tank, slowed his breathing to conserve what last bit of oxygen he had left and followed Tobio further into the building.

* * *

“Tell me.”

“There’s nothing to tell, I swear to God.”

“Tell me,” Takahiro repeated. He dragged the edge of a knife on the chin of the man chained to a chair in front of him. It was covered in old blood stains and new ones. “I’m losing my patience, slowly but surely.”

“I don’t have anything!” The guy shouted. “Please! We’ve never specifically planned to attack Fukurodani!”

“Then tell me about other plans.”

“I can’t,” he cried, letting his head drop weakly. “I can’t, they’ll kill me.”

“What do you think I’m going to do to you then?” Takahiro asked. “Play Yahtzee?” 

“Please, please, you don’t know what they’ll do to me.”

“No, but I know what I’ll do to you.” Takahiro sighed, tossing the knife over his shoulder. He walked over to a table set of tools and picked up a set of pliers. “We can check your dental records.”

“Please,” the guy pleaded in a whisper. “I-I’ll tell you something about the Miyas! I know about them!’

“The Miyas?” Takahiro’s interest peaked. He clamped down on the pliers in the air, the guy’s eye twitching in response as he watched the torturer wave around the tool. “What about them?”

“I heard the older one is getting revenge.”

Takahiro nodded and pulled up a chair in front of him. He rested his arm on the back of the chair, resting his chin on his arm. “Go on.”

“I know where one of the guys who had a big hand in it is.”

Takahiro let out a huff, and he chewed his lip. He had believed when he said he didn’t have any target plans for them specifically, he just wanted to fuck with him a little. Now though? Now the guy _really_ had something that he wanted to know about. “Continue.”

* * *

“Are you going in?”

Atsumu pulled the sleeve of the suit up, moving to zip it. “Huh? Yah, why?” He asked. Kiyoomi looked to the building, a deep, shaky sigh escaping his lips. Then Atsumu remembered what Kiyoomi had told him in the locker room. The explosion, the scar on his back from the burn. He probably wasn’t a big fan of burning buildings ― no one was, but he probably _dreaded_ them. “Ya don’t want me to go in, do ya?” Kiyoomi didn’t say anything. He just looked back to Atsumu. “I’ll be fine.”

“You can just stay back here and let them go in.”

“Omi, it’ll be ‘lright.” Kiyoomi didn’t look sold. Atsumu sighed, looking around them. Koutarou and Tetsurou were talking with Morisuke and Keiji while quickly getting dressed, Hajime and Tooru talked off to the side. With a sigh, he ushered Kiyoomi further behind the truck, out of the line of sight of people. “Hey,” Atsumu softly said. “I promise.”

“Don’t promise,” Kiyoomi shook his head. “For the love of God, the last thing I want you to do is promise.” His hands grabbed the side of Atsumu’s arms, pulling him a little closer to him, there was still a gap but it still shocked Atsumu.

“Omi, what happened?” He asked in a whisper. Kiyoomi bit his lip, letting his head fall. The grip Kiyoomi held on Atsumu was tight, and his right forearm began to hurt from it, but he didn’t say anything.

“I promised someone I would,” Kiyoomi let out a shaky breath, “I would save them and I _couldn’t_.” Everything about it pieced itself together in that one, shuddered breath, a breath filled with fear and regret. Kiyoomi had messed up, and he messed up _bad_ , and he still hadn’t forgiven himself for it.

“Okay,” Atsumu mumbled quietly, “then I don’t promise, but I will say that I will come out.” Kiyoomi lifted his head. “Not as a promise as a statement.” He still wasn’t getting any more words from Kiyoomi. “Please don’t be mad. Yer mad, aren’tcha? Omi―”

“Atsumu, come on! We have to go!” Atsumu turned his head back to look, seeing Tetsurou, Hajime, and Koutarou all dressed and ready. He looked back to Kiyoomi one last time ― when had Kiyoomi stopped holding onto him? Atsumu swore he could still feel it. He sighed sadly and headed toward the building with the others.

There was still something stinging him, where Kiyoomi had grabbed him, and Atsumu felt it the rest of the walk to the building.

* * *

“Why are you putting a leash on me?”

Hajime zipped up his suit as the man behind him hooked up an oxygen tank. He turned around once he felt the other remove their hands from his back and looked at him. “Because,” Hajime said, “I’m not risking you hurting yourself more.”

“I can take care of myself, Iwa,” Tooru said, crossing his arms.

“I know that but your injury is already weak right now. I want you to heal up all the way before.”

“Who made you the boss?” Tooru muttered quietly.

“Me.”

“Iwaizumi, are you ready?” They both turned to look, Tetsurou was grabbing their attention. Hajime nodded. “Atsumu, come on! We have to go!” 

Hajime looked back to Tooru. “I’ll be fine.”

“You better,” Tooru muttered, and he watched Atsumu run over to Koutarou and Tetsurou, watched Hajime walk away from him, watched the four head into the building erupt in flames. He pinched his leg, cursing at himself. Everything about this Tooru hated; he hated watching everyone else do all the work; he hated being left behind.

Tooru hated it all.

* * *

Tobio and Shouyou helped around five trapped people out of the back of the building. Now, they really struggled to get out themselves. They could only be in the heat for so long, even while wearing the suits, and forcing themselves through the flames and smoke was more tiring than it sounded.

Shouyou was walking slower than Tobio, lagging behind him a bit. The air was getting thinner and thinner for him, and he was gasping for air a bit. He pulled himself back a bit, trying to steady his breathing, but it was hard when he needed a deep breath of air. Though he refused to take one, wanting to savor every last bit that he had left in the tank. The shorter one felt his knees getting weaker, every now and then he’d see spots from almost passing out. Smoke was getting to him, he knew it from the ashy feeling on his taste buds. He coughed, beating his chest, and Tobio looked back at him.

“What?” Tobio asked.

“N-nothing.”

“What’s wrong with you? Why is your face getting purple?”

“We’re in a burning building, Kageyama,” he said, his voice quiet and trying its hardest to penetrate through the thick air.

“No. No, that’s not the problem because _I’m_ fine.” He turned to Shouyou and put his hands on his shoulders. “What’s wrong?”

“Tank,” Shouyou whispered.

“What?”

“My tank.” His eyelids started to flutter shut, and he tried his best to stay conscious but the smoke was wrapping around his throat, threatening to put him in a deep sleep. “Please. We have to get out.” Tobio stepped around Shouyou, taking a glance at the small valve that read the oxygen levels on the tank.

_‘Zero.’_

“Yeah,” Tobio said. “Come on.” Shouyou tried to take another stop, but his feet gave out underneath him. His hand landed in some shards of glass but it never cut through with the thickness of the gloves, thank god. Tobio pulled him up. “Hey, Hinata.”

“Kageyama.” Shouyou’s voice began to falter a bit, his eyelids shutting. He felt himself beginning to blackout as his hand gripped as tight as it could onto the sleeve of Tobio’s jacket. His body went limp, and Tobio caught him before he hit the floor.

“Hinata,” he shook him, though the shut eyelids told him. Shouyou was out. Tobio took the tank off of Shouyou and tossed it to the ground. He picked up the smaller one, making sure he was secure on his shoulder before beginning to search for an exit ― any exit at all would do at this point. All he wanted now was to get Shouyou out.

* * *

“How bad is it?”

“I’m figuring out.” Morisuke chewed his lip, staring at the computer screen in front of him. Drones were sent around the building so he could get a good look at it from cameras. 

“Can you figure out what started it?”

“I think it was an explosion, or a spark, or something along those lines,” Morisuke muttered. Kiyoomi twitched at the word but brushed it off. He had a job to do and being sensitive was not it. “I know the building won’t last long.”

“What do you mean?” Kiyoomi looked at him. Morisuke leaned against the side of the fire truck as Kiyoomi sat inside it again, his laptop was in his lap. He held his computer with one hand, biting his fingers nervously with his other.

“Well, based on the building’s design and structure, considering how long it’s been on fire, and thinking of all the possible ways that this fire started,” Morisuke looked over at Kiyoomi, “it can’t hold for more than ten more minutes.”

“They have to get out of there then.”

“Communications machines don’t work through the smoke,” Mosiuke said. “We just have to hope,” he mumbled.

_‘Just have to hope.’_

* * *

The four had split into groups when heading in, Tetsurou and Hajime going one direction and Koutarou and Atsumu going the other.

“Smoke quite thick, yah?” Atsumu asked, his voice ringing through the earpiece in Koutarou’s ear. The owl nodded, careful in his steps as he glanced around the building. 

“I guess we know why Sho and Kageyama never answered the walkies.”

“Yah, shit ain’t connectin’ back to the trucks,” Atsumu muttered as he looked down at his phone. No service. “Smoke must be blockin’ it or somethin’.” He looked over at Koutarou. “We should look around quick n’ get out.” He bit his lip. “But I don’t wanna miss anyone.”

Koutarou nodded. “Agreed. Come on. Let's go.”

  
  


They continued to make their way through, the falling ceiling tiles making Atsumu a little nervous. He continued his way through, ignoring the voice in the back of his head that was telling him to turn back. It sounded like his brother and it was beginning to sound like Kiyoomi. The crackling was probably louder than it actually seemed, the helmets seemed to cloak the noise. Everything was muffled to them as they walked through, even the sounds of the crunching glass under their feet as they walked across it. 

Koutarou stopped, reaching the end of a hallway. He peered into one room, Atsumu checked the other. It was clear for Atsumu, thankfully not a person in sight, and he turned to Koutarou to tell him. His eyes caught notice of the ceiling beginning to fall out below him, and he pushed Koutarou in the direction they came.

The fighter was lucky, Atsumu having knocked him to a safe part of the floor. Atsumu, on the other hand, wasn’t so lucky. The heavy, wooden doorway fell. It knocked the twin to his feet and pinned Atsumu’s arm to the floor. The pain hit him after a few seconds. At first, it felt familiar, like the grip Kiyoomi had on him before he walked in. There was a stinging pain in his arm, but this time it grew more than just that grip. He gritted his teeth, the back of his head hitting the floor.

“Fuck,” he cursed.

“Atsumu!” Koutarou rushed to him, quick to grab the ceiling that landed on top of him and pull it off of him. WIth Koutarou’s strength and Atsumu’s small bit of help, they pushed the building scraps off of him and knocked it out the side. “We’re done in here. Come on.”

“What if there are more people?”

“Look at your fucking arm, ‘Tsumu,” Koutarou said. Atsumu looked down at his arm, the cloth of the suit torn, the skin slightly burned. He thought these suits were meant to be layered and protective, but he assumed they didn’t protect from sharp wood and only flames. “That shit has to hurt.”

“Yah, does.” Atsumu was helped to his feet by Koutarou. He looked around the building. “I’ve learned a few things from Yakkun,” he muttered.

“Meaning what?”

“Meanin’ I think we should get outta here now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Twitter @mattsuhana


	22. Sakusa’s honesty

**MAR. 17**

Shouyou was brought back to the building by Tobio who refused to talk to anyone or explain what happened. Since everyone did _that_ ― rushing into the building with their injured partner and taking matters into their own hands (Takahiro with Issei was an example) ― everyone just let Tobio do his thing until he handed it off to Akinori. No one really cared since they knew a report would be done. It was Tobio, someone who was pretty good at writing reports. He was much better at explaining through text or writing than he was at personally expressing himself.

Koutarou, Keiji, Tetsurou, Morisuke, Hajime, and Tooru were all fine so the group stayed behind to help the people at the fire site with the damages and injuries.

Kiyoomi took Atsumu back to the building as well without another word. He didn’t talk to him the entire car ride, the air in the car thick even though they were miles away from the building that burnt to the ground. Atsumu stared down at his hands the entire car ride, left silent, unsure of what to say. He knew he fucked up by not being careful, the wound on his right arm was bandaged up temporarily.

“Come on,” was all that Kiyoomi said when he parked the car. Atsumu gave a small, barely noticeable nod and followed along, staying a few steps behind the mysophobe as he headed to the medical ward of the building. They passed Kiyoko at the front desk who gave a confused look, but Atsumu gave her a wave and a smile to reassure her and they kept walking.

Kiyoomi brought him to the first room and nodded his head in the direction of the bed. Atsumu took the sign, walking over and sitting down on it, feet hanging over the edge of the bed as he watched Kiyoomi carefully. A mini-fridge sat in the room to hold cooling packs (as did all the small hospital rooms), and he grabbed one out. He walked over with a box he grabbed from the cabinet and set it on the bed next to Atsumu.

“Shirt,” Kiyoomi said as he slipped on a pair of gloves.

Atsumu sighed quietly and stripped the shirt over his head. “Ah,” he cursed when he felt the fabric scratch over the burn and forced it into a chuckle. “Just hurts a little, Omi. Not a big deal, really,” he said quietly.

“Shut up.” 

Atsumu fell quiet, letting Kiyoomi do whatever he was doing. He sucked in a sharp breath of air when the feeling of the cold ice pack pressed against the burn of his skin. Atsumu didn’t say anything, biting his tongue to hold back any whines of pain. 

Kiyoomi kept it in that position for a while, staring at Atsumu’s arm as he held the pack there. It was until Atsumu started to feel his arm go numb when Kiyoomi pulled it off and tossed it to the side. He opened a small tube of medicine and applied it to the burn. Atsumu bit his lip harder, he reached an arm out and grabbed the sleeve of Kiyoomi’s shirt, clutching onto it. He avoided looking at Kiyoomi, squeezing his eyes shut. 

Grabbing a bandage, Kiyoomi began to wrap Atsumu’s arm in it carefully. His touches were soft, delicate, something that someone like Atsumu would call with care but he was never sure when it came to Kiyoomi. His fingers softly smoothed over the bandage once he was done, sliding down Atsumu’s arm. He grabbed him by the wrist and turned his arm upside down, looking carefully at his it. Kiyoomi picked up a small syringe, and Atsumu didn’t even have enough time to ask what it was before he was being stabbed with it.

“Ah!” Atsumu cursed. “Coulda warned me,” he mumbled quietly.

“Stop talking.” Kiyoomi pulled the needle out and dragged his thumb over where he injected the shot. “Did you get hurt anywhere else?” Atsumu shook his head. “Good.” Atsumu felt like the wind got knocked out of him when Kiyoomi tucked his arms under Atsumu’s and pulled him closer. Hugging. Sakusa Kiyoomi was hugging him, resting his chin on his shoulder, pressing his body against his.

“Omi?” Atsumu softly asked, unable to move his hands. He didn’t know what to do, still unsure of how much he was allowed to return the affection. “What’s goin’ on?”

“Shut up.”

“Mmk,” Atsumu hummed. “Can I hug back?”

Kiyoomi took a deep breath before responding. “Yeah.” Atsumu wrapped his arms around his neck, slow as he put his chin on Kiyoomi’s shoulder. It was light at first but soon he let it fully rest. It felt nice, a lot nicer than Atsumu thought hugging Kiyoomi would be. “Don’t do that again,” Kiyoomi whispered.

“Alright,” Atsumu mumbled. “I'm sorry.” 

Kiyoomi pulled away, his hand reaching Atsumu’s cheek before he did. They stared at each other for a bit, Kiyoomi moving his thumb back and forth slowly on his cheek. He slipped his hand away after a solid fifteen seconds before backing away. “Go take a shower, and don’t take the bandage off. Just come to me after and I’ll redo it,” he said.

Atsumu nodded and slipped off the bed. “Right, thanks, Omi.”

“Mm."

* * *

Koutarou, Tetsurou, Hajime, and Tooru were sent back to the office since they knew nothing about damage control and all the injured people were at the hospital or on their way. Keiji and Morisuke stayed as they were the two with the best experience when it came to understanding damage.

Koutarou took Tetsurou with him to find Atsumu considering the owl knew the injury he had gotten.

“Why are we searching for Atsumu?” Tetsurou asked, following his friend who made him tag along with him down the hallway. The bedhead had a small dirt smudge on his face from heading into the building but that was it. Koutarou, on the other hand, had clothes that were completely dirty from when he had been pushing to the ground ― they still wore the firefighter uniforms, promising the community truck they borrowed it from that they would have them properly washed in return for using them.

“Because he got hurt and I want to check up on him,” Koutarou explained shortly.

“What happened?” 

“He got trapped under a ceiling beam for a quick moment.”

“That’s what happened?” Tetsurou and Koutarou both stopped considering it wasn’t either of them who had said something, and they turned to look at the familiar voice. 

Koutarou smiled at him. “Hey, Sakusa!” He waved.

“What happened exactly?” Kiyoomi asked instead, taking a step back from Koutarou a bit once he noticed how dirty his attire was. They stood in the offices’ hallway, and Kiyoomi was just exiting out of his as the two were passing through.

“‘Tsum and I were checking out rooms for people,” Koutarou began, and he frowned. “Then he pushed me out of the way, and the next thing I know, he’s trapped under a burning doorway beam.”

“So he saved you?”

Koutarou nodded. “Yeah, he did. I wanted to make sure he was okay.” Koutarou turned his head. “Do you know where he is?”

Kiyoomi sighed. “I sent him to take a shower.”

“Thanks, Sakusa,” Koutarou said, and he started walking again, ushering Tetsurou to follow him.

  
  


“Hey,” Tetsurou began to say once they left earshot of the mysophobe. Koutarou looked over at him. “Don’t you think that Sakusa and Atsumu are really close?”

“What do you mean? We’re really close.” 

Tesurou elbowed him in the side. “Not like that, you idiot. Of course, we are. We’re best friends.” Tetsurou glanced over his shoulder to see the other they left behind walking down the hallway. “Like, closer than Sakusa has ever let anyone get to him.”

“That’s true, I think,” Koutarou said. “I think he has feelings for Atsumu.”

“Seriously?” Tetsurou laughed. “You can just say that?”

“Well, what do you want me to say?” Koutarou laughed. “It’s true! Look at them. They’re always together, Sakusa is helping ‘Tsum get this revenge or whatever it is.”

“Yeah, I’m pretty curious about that,” Tetsurou muttered.

“Akaashi told me it had something to do with his family.” Koutarou shrugged. “We all have family issues so it could be anything.”

“You don’t really have family issues,” Tetsurou said.

“No, but they did resign and force us to have to merge.” Koutarou put his hands in his pockets. “So here we are.”

“I miss Boss Mom Bokuto,” Tetsurou said with a soft sigh. “She was so nice.”

“Mom was mean!”

“To you,” Tetsurou chuckled. “She was an angel to me.”

“Whatever,” Koutarou mumbled. “Let’s just go check up on ‘Tsum.”

* * *

Takahiro had his feet crossed in the chair, a laptop sitting on his lap as he chewed his lip. He had finished his little task from Keishin hours ago and returned to Issei’s side, now working on the information that he gained from the little torture session. A few hours ago, Hajime had peeked his head in to tell Takahiro that everyone was back from the emergency and that the only injury was Atsumu and everyone was alright. The torturer thanked him before he left.

  
  


“Hey.”

Takahiro lifted his head, tilting the laptop screen down. He quickly shut up and set it on the ground, leaning it vertically against the bed. The torturer scooted the chair closer to the bed. He did it so fast that he almost missed his repositioning on the seat. “Hey,” he returned back softly. Takahiro reached out, dragging the back of his hand down Issei’s face. “How are you feeling?”

“Like, garbage?” Issei groaned and his eyes did a quick roll in the back of his head. “What happened?” He tried to sit up. Takahiro helped him, moving a pillow behind him so it was more comfortable. 

“Your dumbass got drugged," Takahiro informed. When Issei had woken up before, he had been on so many pain killers that he couldn't process what was happening; he was speaking drowsy and not listening to a word anyone was saying. They made him go back to sleep.

“Seriously?” Takahiro nodded. “Fun,” Issei said. Takahiro sighed, letting his head drop. “What?”

“You were out for nearly sixty-six hours.”

“What?”

“You passed out around nine, slept two whole days after that, then the first fifteen hours today,” Takahiro mumbled. “Happy March seventeenth.”

“Did you sleep at all?” Issei asked, and Takahiro nodded. “Hanamaki.”

“I’m fine, I got a few hours a bit ago,” he said quickly, “and you’re fine, and that’s―” he sighed, “all that matters,” he finished in a whisper.

“Please go get some sleep,” Issei said.

“I will punch you.”

“At least twelve hours.” Takahiro stayed quiet. Issei sighed, sitting up more with a groan. The torturer looked up at him quickly, watching him in case he needed help getting up. He seemed only slightly bothered by the pain, and just like Issei wondered about Takahiro before, Takahiro wondered how far Issei’s pain tolerance stretched for. “Please. In the meantime, I’ll have Bokuto or Sakusa help me get back on my feet considering I need to remember how to move my toes.” 

He thought for a moment, before he sighed, standing up with a stretch and a wobble. “Fine,” Takahiro said. “Fine, I’ll go take another nap.”

“Thank you.”

“You focus on getting better though.”

“I will.”

“Okay,” Takahiro said with another sigh. He picked up his empty coffee cups he had left there before, stacking them in each other and grabbing the empty take out container that had only the crumbs of profiteroles left in it. “See you in a like, eight to twelve hours.”

Issei nodded and watched Takahiro leave the room before he let out a big sigh. He felt really sick -- sicker than he let himself come across as. His organs felt like they were in the wrong spots and still trying everything in their power to function. He had bit his tongue back when sitting up, scratched the bedsheets on the other side out of Takahiro’s sight, and had continuously told himself that it didn’t really hurt.

He faked it a hundred percent for Takahiro.

* * *

Takahiro began to make his way to his office to crash on his couch like he had told Issei he would. He was hoping to catch Koutarou in the hallway to tell him to get working with Issei ASAP on getting him back to walking around, though he only caught Keiji -- which was basically the same thing. At this point, whatever went through Keiji went to Koutarou and vise versa. Takahiro wanted to tease the relationship, but he was more focused on what he had to do. He’d tease them later.

“Hey, Akaashi,” Takahiro called out before Keiji could disappear around the corner. The man stopped walking, turning his head as the torturer approached him. “I need Bokuto to help with Matsukawa.”

“He’s awake?”

Takahiro nodded. “Yeah,” he said, “yeah, he just might need a small bit of physical therapy but he should be fine. Just get the feeling back in his toes or whatever.” Keiji nodded. “Also, I have something to ask you.”

“Shoot,” Keiji.

“Does Atsumu know someone named Terushima?” Takahiro asked while leaning against the wall. He crossed his arms, watching Keiji’s eyebrows knit in question.

“Terushima?” Keiji asked. “I’m not sure. Why?”

“Ukai had me torture that guy we brought back,” Takahiro muttered, rubbing his wrist back and forth. “He didn’t have any information about us, but he sure had information about Atsumu’s targets.”

“Seriously?” Keiji scoffed. Takahiro nodded. “Are you going to tell him?”

“Of course,” Takahiro grinned, “I compiled it all together, too, I’m just going to look over it before I fax it to him so he can just go and kill or do whatever he’s doing.”

“With Sakusa.”

Takahiro nodded. “Yes, with his boyfriend.”

Keiji raised an eyebrow. “You really think so?” The torturer shrugged. “Of course,” Keiji muttered. “Well, I’m sure Atsumu is going to want that information ASAP.” 

Takahiro smiled. “Yup. I was going to send it to him before going to sleep.”

“Sleep?”

“Yeah.”

“You. Sleep. Willingly," Keiji said slowly.

Takahiro turned and started walking. “Goodbye, Akaashi.”

He continued his way to his office, he would definitely not be telling Keiji the only reason why he was going to sleep was just because Issei had told him to.

Plopping down in his office chair, Takahiro signed in and pulled up everything he had done from when he was waiting for Issei to wake up. He scanned over it, reading it quickly, making sure everything was there, making sure that Atsumu had everything that he needed, and then he faxed it over to the twin. With a groan, he leaned back in his chair, stretched his arms above his head. He slapped his jaw as he looked around and sighed. Now he just had to go to sleep.

* * *

Koutarou and Tetsurou had found Atsumu in his office, feet pulled up on his chair as he sat in his boxers and a t-shirt, a towel resting on his shoulders. He had his chin sitting on the top of his knees as he hugged his legs, eyes staring at the monitor screen in front of him. They opened the door without knocking, catching the thief a little off guard. He looked at them as he reached for the keyboard, tapping the spacebar to pause whatever he was watching.

“Nah, yeah, ya can just come on in then,” Atsumu muttered. “'Cause, ya know, fuck knockin’.”

“‘Tsum!” Koutarou said instead. “How are you feeling?”

“Better. Omi patched me up.”

“ _Omi’_ ,” Tetsurou echoed. “You two are so cute.”

“Come again?” Atsumu asked.

“You two!” Koutarou intervened. He leaned on the desk toward the bleached blond, getting a little in his personal space to the point where Atsumu leaned back, an eyebrow raised. “You’re totally becoming a thing.”

“We work together.”

“Very closely,” Tetsurou said with a grin.

“Two of ya work very closely together, ya know that, right?”

“We’re friends,” Koutarou said with a pout.

“Omi and I are friends.”

“No, there’s a difference between friends and flirting on the down-low,” Tetsurou said while putting an arm on Koutarou's shoulder, the owl nodding in agreement.

“I don’t hafta take this from the two idiots who have crushes on people in this office and aren’t even subtle ‘bout it,” Atsumu muttered. “Thought ya came in ‘ere to check on me, not make fun of me.”

“Oh, yeah!” Koutarou said. “How is your arm?”

“Burnt,” Atsumu deadpanned.

“Like fried chicken,” Tetsurou said.

“Thanks fer that mental image.”

“You’re welcome," Tetsurou said with a grin.

“Can ya get out now?”

“What are you watching?” Koutarou asked instead, leaning over to look at Atsumu’s screen. “Is that security footage? Of what? Where is that?”

“Just outside a bar,” Atsumu mumbled. 

“Is this that revenge you’re working on?” Tetsurou asked. Atsumu nodded. “Sakusa helps with that, doesn’t he?” He asked with a smirk.

“Get outta my office, ya fuckin’ rooster.”

“Alright, alright, fine,” Tetsurou said, and he moved off of Koutarou’s shoulder. He started to make his way to the door. “Come on, Bokuto. Let’s leave _‘lover boy’_ alone.”

“Eat shit,” Atsumu muttered. 

“See you, ‘Tsum!” Koutarou called out last before letting the door shut behind them.

  
  


Tetsurou and Koutarou left down the hallway again.

“So what now?” Koutarou asked. Tetsurou shrugged and shoved his hands in his pockets. He thought for a bit, chewing the inside of his lip.

“I don’t know. Maybe go to the new store that opened. The one where everything is only a dollar.”

“Oh, my god,” Koutarou mumbled. “Let’s go.”

* * *

Atsumu paused the recording clip quickly, sitting up as he used the control key and the arrow keys to zoom in. He squinted at the screen, biting his lip as the face on the screen became more evident. Keeping his eyes on the screen, Atsumu grabbed an unopened folder filled with names, faces, and information of people that his organization had ever come to cross paths with. He opened it and flipped it open, moving his eyes to the paper as he searched through to find the matching face.

His eyes twitched when he heard his printer going off. The thief dropped his legs from the chair as he turned to look behind him. He picked himself up from the chair and walked over, pulling out the papers that were faxed over to him. A single piece of paper was printed out after that ― a little note.

_‘Long story short, I found you your next target. Your payment is simple: get Osamu to get me more cream puffs please - Hanamaki <3' _

Atsumu scoffed as he looked over the other papers, and he blinked a few times. He moved back to his computer and held the fax up to the screen. The faces matched. Takahiro had basically finished the rest of his research. He quickly folded the paper and put it in his pocket.

_‘Now to go to Omi.’_

Atsumu had held back after his shower from going straight to Kiyoomi even though the bandage was soaked and still wrapped around his burn. It should have definitely been fixed after he stepped out of the shower but Atsumu didn’t want to bother Kiyoomi with two things especially since the twin suspected that Kiyoomi was mad at him. So he decided to get together the information about his next personal job before going to Kiyoomi so he could kill two birds with one stone. 

  
  


After slipping on some slides, Atsumu left his office to head a few doors down where Kiyoomi’s office was. He took a deep breath to compose himself before he knocked on the door. It was a few seconds of waiting there, Atsumu staring at the ground as he bit his lip before the door opened. Kiyoomi was on the other side looking as bored as ever, but there was a slight look in his eyes that Atsumu swore lit up, though nothing about Atsumu’s relationship with Kiyoomi was solid right now so he passed over it.

“Come in,” Kiyoomi muttered, stepping out of the way to make room for Atsumu to walk in. Atsumu nodded and mumbled a soft, ‘ _thanks_ ’ before stepping in, making sure to keep the distance between them as much as he possibly could. “It took you two hours to shower?” Kiyoomi asked.

“Why ya ask? Doesn’t take ya that long?” Kiyoomi squinted. “I was doin’ somethin’,” Atsumu admitted. 

“Whatever,” Kiyoomi muttered. He reached behind his desk, picking up a small, white box and placing it on his desk. The germaphobe opened it, quickly slipping on a pair of gloves ― he was _really_ fast with doing that at this point in his life ― before he grabbed a pair of medical scissors. He waved his hand for Atsumu to step closer, and the thief did, standing in front of Kiyoomi, though not too close. 

  
Kiyoomi lightly grabbed his arm, pulling him a little closer. He reached over, carefully snipping at the bandage and cutting it off, letting it drop to the floor. A little bit unsanitary for Kiyoomi, Atsumu thought, but he looked past it. Kiyoomi stared at Atsumu's burn for a bit instead of doing something, a pale look on his face as his gaze seemed frozen. 

Atsumu wanted to say something and tell him that it was alright, that it barely hurt, that it was barely a thing to worry about, but he didn’t say anything. The thief bit back on his tongue, still afraid to say anything. He still felt as if Kiyoomi was so mad at him with how quiet he was being. Kiyoomi was a quiet person, sure, but with Atsumu? The twin felt like he was able to get him to talk when it was just the two of them, and now, he could barely get a single word out of him.

Kiyoomi continued and worked in silence, doing what he did before minus the ice pack. The cold cream, the bandage, the shot in his arm which Atsumu figured to be a pain reliever. Minus the hug too.

Instead, Atsumu pulled the paper from his back pocket and stared at it. “So, I found my next job,” he said quietly. Kiyoomi raised an eyebrow at him, picking the old bandage off the ground and tossing it in the trash along with the gloves. He snapped the medical kit shut and put it back under his desk. “Was probably gonna leave tomorrow or somethin’,” Atsumu added.

“You’re just now telling me?”

Atsumu’s hand reached up and nervously tugged on his ear. “Well, didn’t think ya’d wanna come with.”

“Seriously?”

“Aren’tcha mad at me or somethin’?” Atsumu quietly asked. 

“You think if I was mad at you I would give a shit that you got burned?”

“Well, I didn’t think of it that way,” Atsumu muttered. “Now that ya say it like that…” He trailed off, staring down at his hands like a child who had been scolded.

“I’m not mad at you, Atsumu.” Kiyoomi sighed, and he stepped up to Atsumu. He was close again -- he was so close. Atsumu was near enough to see the knitted facial expression, though it wasn’t pain or anger. It seemed more like a struggle of confusion like he didn’t know what to say next. “I told you I didn’t want you going in.”

“Bokuto and I got out two people.”

“I know.”

Atsumu shrugged. “I’d say it was worth it.”

“I’m not saying it wasn’t.”

“Then what’re ya sayin’?” Atsumu finally looked at Kiyoomi who wasn’t actually looking at him. His head was turned to the side, teeth ground into his lower lip. “Omi?” 

“I was worried for you, asshole,” Kiyoomi finally said.

For some reason, that made Atsumu smile. “Ya were worried fer me,” he quietly mumbled.

“Yes.” Atsumu’s lips turned into a cocky grin. Kiyoomi scoffed. “Stop that.”

“What?!” Atsumu laughed. “I can’t be happy?”

“No.” Kiyoomi turned and walked back to his desk, and if he mainly did that just to hide the small curve at his lips? No one had to know. He sat down at his desk, leaning back in his chair a little. “What’s the new job?”

Atsumu felt better now knowing Kiyoomi wasn’t actually mad at him. Actually, he had been worried about him. Atsumu felt a lot better now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Twitter @mattsuhana


	23. Taking out one at a time

**MAR. 18**

A few of them stood surrounded by the hospital bed that Shouyou was in. He was conscious, sitting up in bed with a smile on his face. 

“I rested the whole night! I’m fine! Let’s do something!” Shouyou said. Tobio sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. He looked over to Keiji who gave a small shrug. 

“We don’t even have any jobs lined up,” Keiji said. “I guess we could―” Keiji cut himself off, furrowing his eyebrows.

“What, ‘Kaashi?” Koutarou asked. 

“A practice match?”

“I’m game,” Takahiro quickly said. “Please? Please?” He begged, tugging on Issei’s arm (as if he had said anything) while he looked at Keiji. Keiji looked around the room at everyone else in there. The only people that were missing were Hajime, Tetsurou, and Morisuke. "I missed out on the last one." 

“Sure, if someone goes and gets the others,” Keiji said with a shrug. 

“Awesome,” Takahiro said under his breath. “Let’s go.”

* * *

“Alright,” Keiji began while everyone surrounded in a circle all dressed and prepared. He held sticks in his hands, the same way that Hajime had done the last practice match, except Keiji held a lot more. “I’ve got twelve sticks, two have the same color. Teams of two. Two against two against two―” he flicked his wrist in the air. “You get the point.”

“This time Yakkun will have a partner,” Tetsurou said as he elbowed the shorter one next to him.

“My goal is to kill you,” Morisuke mumbled under his breath. Tetsurou smiled and looked back to Keiji.

“Grab your sticks,” Keiji said.

Everyone reached for a stick.

Keiji - Purple

Koutarou - Red

Atsumu - Blue

Kiyoomi - Orange

Tetsurou - Yellow

Morisuke - Blue

Takahiro - Green

Issei - Orange

Tooru - Purple

Hajime - Yellow

Tobio - Green

Shouyou - Red

_Atsumu and Morisuke VS Tetsurou and Hajime VS Tobio and Takahiro VS Issei and Kiyoomi VS Koutarou and Shouyou VS Tooru and Keiji._

“Interestin’ teams,” Atsumu hummed. He walked over to Morisuke and put an arm on his shoulder. “Ready, Yakkun?”

“Get in my way and I kill you.”

“Nice," Atsumu said with a grin. Tetsurou frowned at his pick, and Hajime noticed it. He elbowed him to get his attention. Tetsurou glanced over at him.

“Jealous?” Hajime asked in a lowered voice.

“What?” Tetsurou scoffed, though his lying was always terrible ― like how he tried to lie about not knowing that Takahiro was awake. The same expression showed on his face as he tried to lie about being upset that he wasn't Morisuke's partner. “No.”

“What is it?” Takahiro jumped in, wrapping an arm around Hajime's shoulder. He lowered himself down to Haijime’s height. “What goes on?”

“Nothing,” Tetsurou said.

“Doesn’t sound like nothing,” Tobio commented. That took them all by surprise that Tobio had said something. Takahiro smiled, backing away from the situation and letting Tobio take it away. He was proud of him, he must’ve taught him well, just like Takahiro had claimed he _‘taught’_ Keiji. 

The torturer bumped into someone. He turned to look, a smile stretching on his face once he saw who it was. “Hey, sexy,” Takahiro said. “Are you ready?”

“Are you?” Issei asked. He pointed his head toward Kiyoomi. “We’re going to kill you.”

Takahiro laughed. “Are you sure Sakusa isn’t going to bring a bottle of lotion and hide in an open part of the forest?”

“I’ll kill you,” Kiyoomi muttered. 

Takahiro just smiled and gave him a thumbs up. “Yes,” he said.

“Sakusa, don’t be mean like that!” Koutarou came over with a laugh. “Friendly competition, right, Sho?” Shouyou jumped next to him and nodded.

“You two are just excited because you were paired together,” Tooru muttered from the side. 

“What?” Takahiro asked. “You don’t like your partner? I feel bad for Akaashi.”

“Thank you,” Keiji said.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Tooru asked. “I’m a great partner.”

“You complain,” Takahiro said.

“I just talk, okay? I have a lot to say.”

“You complain,” Takahiro and Keiji said at the same time. Tooru huffed in defeat. He glared at Keiji before he rolled his eyes and walked away.

“I hope I get you killed.”

* * *

They all started out at different parts at the edge of the forest reserved for their training and practice matches. A single flare gun was shot in the air (courtesy of Hitoka who had brought them all their weapons ― the fake ones, of course), and the teams ran out to try and get the best head start. All of them ran but one.

“Maybe you shouldn’t be doing this,” Keiji commented as he stopped and turned to look at his partner. Tooru was slightly staggering behind, a small limp that was hardly noticeable from far away, but when you wanted him to keep up with you, it was quite obvious.

“I’m fine, Akaashi,” Tooru said. “It’s still just a little sore. Worry about yourself and keep going.”

“To worry about myself, I also have to worry about you because I have to think of whether or not to ditch you or not," Keiji said. Tooru frowned. “You’re basically a cripple.”

“Thanks for that,” Tooru said. He sighed and came to a stop, bending his knee back and forth as if he was a machine that was in need of more oil. Keiji stared at him, watching closely as he watched the pain show when Tooru’s eyebrows twitched. Tooru scoffed at him and continued walking. “Let’s just stay on the move. We have to deal with both Yakkun and Makki.”

  
  


_Atsumu and Morisuke VS Tetsurou and Hajime VS Tobio and Takahiro VS Issei and Kiyoomi VS Koutarou and Shouyou VS Tooru and Keiji._

* * *

“How do you think we should go about this?” Koutarou asked once they had come to a stop. The two had sprinted through the forest for a bit until they felt like they were a bit safe, stopping and getting a drink of water from the packs that they carried on their backs.

Shouyou sat on a large rock and lifted his bottle, downing half of the cold water quickly before lowering the bottle and letting out an _‘ah!’_ after the refreshing drink. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and let his arms loosely hang, hand barely holding onto the water bottle. “Not sure,” Shouyou finally said. He snapped the cap back on his bottle and reached for his bag. “I heard that Hanamaki and Yaku are pretty threatening.” He gave a shrug as he put the bottle in his pack and zipped it up. “Though I’m not sure since I’ve never seen either of them in action ― Hanamaki that one time, but I don’t think that really counted for knowing how well he fights.”

“Mhm,” Koutarou hummed. “True. I guess we just have to be careful.” He looked around the forest. “Let’s walk around, take in the area?”

Shouyou nodded with a smile. “Good idea.”

  
  


_Atsumu and Morisuke VS Tetsurou and Hajime VS Tobio and Takahiro VS Issei and Kiyoomi VS Koutarou and Shouyou VS Tooru and Keiji._

* * *

“So, Yakkun.”

“Stop calling me that.”

“Why?” Atsumu raised an eyebrow. “Is it only a name fer Kuroo to use?”

Morisuke’s face scrunched up. “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“Ya can’t tell me ya two aren’t close,” Atsumu said with a smirk as they pushed past some trees. He lifted his hand and swatted away a branch that Morisuke let swat back in his face ― or maybe the shorter one just didn’t quite reach it.

“Shut it.”

“Yer mad ‘cause I'm right.”

“Atsumu, I’m going to get you killed.”

“That’s a bit uncalled fer.”

“Is it?” Morisuke asked. He sighed, juggling a bomb in his hand ― fake one, mind you. It shot out rubber pellets that hurt like hell, and it kind of felt like being shot with a BB gun a million times in a second.

“Yah, it is.”

“Mhm.” Morisuke stopped walking and looked around. He took a deep breath, eyes scanning the tops of the trees and the branches. “Don’t care, keep walking.” Atsumu sighed and followed along. His thought process being Morisuke’s partner? 

_‘He wins most of the time but he’s a prick.’_ Atsumu would fight through the constant bullying if it meant he acquired another win under his belt.

  
  


_Atsumu and Morisuke VS Tetsurou and Hajime VS Tobio and Takahiro VS Issei and Kiyoomi VS Koutarou and Shouyou VS Tooru and Keiji._

* * *

Issei bit his tongue, using the thick tree trunk to hide behind as he peered past the bark. “Shouldn’t be _that_ hard to take one of them out,” Issei mumbled. Kiyoomi, hiding a tree away from Issei, nodded. “Oikawa’s basically a cripple right now.”

“Seriously?”

Issei shrugged. “According to Hanamaki, he’s off a knee injury.”

“You’ve been hanging out with Hanamaki a lot,” Kiyoomi pointed out. Issei looked over at Kiyoomi, cracking his knuckles before rolling up his sleeves to his elbows.

“You’ve been hanging out with Atsumu a lot. Call it even?”

Kiyoomi sighed. “Fine.”

“I got Akaashi, you get Oikawa?” Issei asked, and Kiyoomi shrugged. “Great. Go.”

  
  


Kiyoomi went one way, Issei went the other way, coming up from different angles on the two like cougars attacking gazelle. Issei attacked first, getting Keiji at the back and knocking him to the forest floor. Tooru had turned around, spotting Issei. He was smart and looked around before anything else. His eyes landed on Kiyoomi a little down the path hiding in the bushes, and he sprinted in the other direction. He was faster than Issei thought he would’ve been, maybe his injury wasn’t that bad or he was just fighting through it to _‘survive’._

A huff came from Issei as he got up, disappointed they couldn’t take out a whole team then and there but whatever. It was what it was. He reached a hand out for Keiji to help him up, and the stealthy assassin accepted the gesture.

“No playing around, huh?” Keiji muttered as he got to his feet, dusting off his attire.

“Mhm,” Kiyoomi hummed as he came out from the bushes. His thumb ran along the edge of the plastic knife, staring off in the direction that Tooru ran off with a concentrated expression.

“Oikawa ran off,” Issei said.

“Well, his knee isn’t the best. He wouldn’t be able to take on the both of you.”

“He ran pretty quickly though," Kiyoomi muttered.

“He fights through it.” Keiji sighed. “Well, guess I’ll leave you with some information before I head back.”

Issei raised an eyebrow. “Really? What is it?”

“Watch out for Hanamaki.” Keiji didn’t say anything more but started to head in the direction he and Tooru came from. 

  
  


Issei looked over at Kiyoomi who shrugged. “What?” Kiyoomi asked.

“A warning for Hanamaki?” Issei scoffed. “Why?”

“I don’t know. You hang out with him.”

“Yeah, but I’ve never seen anything warning worthy.”

Kiyoomi looked around, keeping an eye out for safety reasons. “I don’t know,” he repeated.

“Atsumu hasn’t said anything?” Issei asked with a grin. Kiyoomi turned to glare at him, and the fighter chuckled. “Alright, fine. Let’s keep going.”

  
  


_Atsumu and Morisuke VS Tetsurou and Hajime VS Tobio and Takahiro VS Issei and Kiyoomi VS Koutarou and Shouyou VS Tooru ~~and Keiji.~~ _

* * *

Takahiro let out a quiet sigh and stole a glance over at his partner. Tobio walked in silence as he tended to do, keeping his two cents to himself as he held his gun and carefully scanned the area around him as he walked. Takahiro wondered what he was always thinking, probably cats or something.

They had ran pretty far at first, not heading into a sprint but a simple, well-paced run through the woods. Neither of them stopped for water breaks, instead deciding to maintain their stamina whenever they saw fit. It seemed Tobio got tired first, and they’d slow down to walk for a bit, getting water out if they needed to but never making a full stop. Constantly, they were moving, which was probably how they caught up to another team.

“Hey,” Takahiro lowered his voice and grabbed Tobio by the arm to pull him back. He slightly lowered himself, trying to hide behind some brush as he spotted the team of two up ahead. “Them.”

“Hinata and Bokuto?” Tobio asked upon seeing who Takahiro caught sight of. Takahiro nodded.

“How about,” Takahiro began to say as he pulled out a knife from his back pocket, “I go for them and you position yourself up in the trees in case I need some backup?”

“You’re going to head in alone?”

“You know me, Kageyama,” Takahiro said with a grin. “I think I can handle Bokuto and Hinata.”

Tobio sighed. “Fine.”

  
  


_Atsumu and Morisuke VS Tetsurou and Hajime VS Tobio and Takahiro VS Issei and Kiyoomi VS Koutarou and Shouyou VS Tooru ~~and Keiji.~~ _

* * *

Tooru felt bad. Of course, he did. He sprinted away instead of helping Keiji, but how was he supposed to help? Keiji was out the second he hit the ground. Running away was honestly the only logical option. He would be crazy to think he could take on Issei and Kiyoomi. Hell, he’d be crazy to think he could take on one of them alone. Either of them ― mostly Issei.

He didn’t know what to do since he was alone and everyone else had all their teammates, he was pretty sure. It was early into the match, and Tooru assumed that Keiji was the first one to get eliminated. Tooru sighed, walking through the forested area into another path opening. He almost fell once he pulled himself back upon seeing another team on the trail. It was a team that he would particularly be afraid of if this were real. He was honestly glad they were with them at Fukurodani now.

Hajime and Tetsurou.

Tooru let out a deep sigh, realizing just how impossible it would be to win without a teammate.

_‘Goddammit.’_

  
  


_Atsumu and Morisuke VS Tetsurou and Hajime VS Tobio and Takahiro VS Issei and Kiyoomi VS Koutarou and Shouyou VS Tooru ~~and Keiji.~~ _

* * *

“That one of yer grenades?” Atsumu looked over at Morisuke who sat on a tree branch next to him. The two were positioned up high, both of them sitting on steady branches that support their weight. Morisuke had one foot hanging, the other foot sat up on the branch with him. Atsumu straddled his branch, both hands planted on it with a small fear of falling. 

“Yes, it is,” Morisuke muttered. “Now shut up,” he said while working on the small bomb with a small screwdriver. He looked up for a second and paused. 

“What?” Atsumu asked. “Somethin’ on my face?”

“No, shut up, look behind you.” Atsumu turned and looked, taking a moment to spot what Morisuke was talking about. Honestly, if Atsumu was a hundred percent, he had no idea how Morisuke spotted him so easily. Tobio hung out in the trees not too far from them.

“What’re ya thinkin’?” Atsumu asked, turning his head back to Morisuke as his eyes stayed on Tobio until his head turned to where he couldn't see him anymore and looked back at the bomber.

“You stay back and I’ll take him out?” Morisuke shoved his tools away.

“Seriously?”

“Seriously. Stay here and sit in silence.”

“And look pretty,” Atsumu added.

“You might have a hard time completing that part of it but sure. If you want to make it harder for yourself, go ahead.”

“Hey!” 

“Shut up and stay here,” Morisuke hissed.

  
  


Morisuke began to make his way quietly through the trees. He moved lightly, only a quiet sound of air moving as the branches supported his weight for a mere second before he shifted to another one. Tobio sat low enough on the trees to not see Morisuke from above him. He was also low enough to the ground to be affected by the smoke grenade that Morisuke dropped from above.

The smoke quickly surrounded Tobio, and it seemed he was more caught off guard than he knew to try and get out. Morisuke dropped down to the branch above him and jumped down to the ground, _‘killing’_ Tobio as he fell to the ground. He landed on his feet almost as if he was like a cat and stood up straight as he waited for the smoke to clear.

Once it did, Tobio sat there, looking slightly annoyed as he held his gun in his hands disappointedly. 

“Who was your partner again?” Morisuke asked.

“Hanamaki.”

_‘Shit.’_ Morisuke froze. He looked around _._ “I got pretty lucky that he’s not around, didn’t I?” Morisuke mumbled quietly. Tobio nodded. “Alright, well, then you understand why I have to get out of here ASAP,” Morisuke said as he began to already climb the tree again.

“Yeah,” Tobio replied. 

“Perfect. See you, Kageyama.”

“See you,” Tobio said as he watched Morisuke disappear back into the trees. He sighed and looked around. Takahiro was still nowhere to be seen.

The biggest question was: _‘Where the hell is Takahiro?’_

  
  


_Atsumu and Morisuke VS Tetsurou and Hajime VS ~~Tobio and~~ Takahiro VS Issei and Kiyoomi VS Koutarou and Shouyou VS Tooru ~~and Keiji.~~ _

* * *

Takahiro was quick as he made his way toward Shouyou and Koutarou. He snuck up quickly yet quietly. His style of sneak attacks was similar to Morisuke. Both of them were very easy on their feet, nothing but silence as they made their approaches.

Taking out two people against one wasn’t Takahiro’s best suit. He wasn’t Issei. If there was real, it'd be a different story. Real knives and guns. However, it was a practice match. Even the smallest cut rang your defeat. Takahiro had to be more careful. Real missions were easy, Takahiro could take a beating and stay standing; this fake mission was hard, cheap cuts were fair game.

He approached from behind, and Shouyou was the closest, staggering behind slightly as he drank his water and walked. Takahiro grabbed him by his backpack, tugging and pulling him back as he held the plastic knife to Shouyou’s throat. Koutarou spun around when Shouyou yelped out, and he pulled out his own weapon as the three stood there. The hostage situation began.

“You’re not gonna run?” Takahiro asked.

“No.”

“Are you sure?” Takahiro laughed. “I’ll let you go.”

“You’ll―” Koutarou cocked an eyebrow. “Let me go?” Takahiro nodded. “Why?”

He shrugged. “My enjoyment. I get to watch you run around without a partner and struggle.” Koutarou was obviously thinking about it, slowly beginning to take a step back. It was until Shouyou sighed and gave him a small nod. Koutarou muttered a small _‘sorry’_ to Shouyou before he turned on his heel and sprinted away. Takahiro laughed, _‘cutting’_ Shouyou’s throat and letting go of him. “Sorry about that, Hinata. We were a great team last job," the torturer said.

Shouyou let out a huff. “Then why did you target me?”

“I didn’t target you,” Takahiro said as he poked Shouyou’s hair with the tip of his knife. “You stand out.” Shouyou reached up and touched his hair, pulling down some in front of his face to stare at the orange locks. He frowned and let go of his bangs. “You have any idea who is out?” Takahiro asked him.

“No clue,” Shouyou responded with a shrug. Takahiro slapped Shouyou’s back, he didn’t seem all that upset about not learning any information. Instead, he grinned.

“Alright,” he said, “well, the way to get out is that way,” he said while pointing toward the north.

“Thanks,” Shouyou said, but he wasn’t sure why he was thanking Takahiro. He just _‘killed’_ him. Though regardless, he said it with a smile and watched Takahiro give him a nod before running off.

  
  


_Atsumu and Morisuke VS Tetsurou and Hajime VS ~~Tobio and~~ Takahiro VS Issei and Kiyoomi VS Koutarou ~~and Shouyou~~ VS Tooru ~~and Keiji.~~ _

* * *

Takahiro kept moving on, whistling quietly to himself as if he wasn’t technically in the middle of a mini civil warzone. He seemed like he was off guard to anyone watching, but Takahiro was more alert than ever, especially considering he had just let Koutarou go. The owl could come back for Takahiro if he wanted to.

He stopped walking once he heard a branch snap to his left, and he quickly turned his head. Takahiro was almost too slow to dodge the knife swinging in his direction, but he made it just in time, taking a step back as Issei missed and moved past him. He wasn’t dumb either. Takahiro knew that Kiyoomi was behind him. He knelt down, hands planting on the ground as he swiped his feet back and tripped the germaphobe to the ground. Takahiro jumped over him, _‘stabbing’_ him to _‘kill’_ and standing up to make eye contact with Issei.

“Wow,” Issei muttered. “I’m actually kind of impressed.”

“That’s hurtful.”

“What do you mean? I complimented you.” Issei’s shoulders relaxed despite having Takahiro as an enemy right in front of him.

“Yeah, but it was like a backhanded compliment.” Takahiro crossed his arms. “Like you didn’t know I could kick Sakusa to his ass.” Kiyoomi rolled his eyes as he stood up and brushed himself off. 

“I didn’t, if I was being completely honest,” Issei said though he shrugged. “But I also got a warning from Akaashi about you before.”

“Akaashi?” Takahiro smiled. “Did you get Akaashi out?” Issei nodded. “Nice, so Oikawa is alone.”

“Probably not for long considering his injury.”

“Mhm,” Takahiro hummed. “Well, what? Do you want to fight to the death or not, Skeleton?”

“You’re going to fight with me? Hand to hand?” Issei laughed. “Okay―” The two stopped taking steps toward each other when a small BB bullet passed in front of Takahiro’s face. 

_‘Kageyama?’ No, wait, he's my teammate.'_ Takahiro questioned to himself as he looked around, but Issei looked as if he knew. Then it hit him. _‘Iwaizumi.’_

“Nevermind!” Takahiro said with a cheery smile. “Gotta blast.” 

And before Issei could go after him, he was being shot at and was forced to run in the other direction.

  
  


_Atsumu and Morisuke VS Tetsurou and Hajime VS ~~Tobio and~~ Takahiro VS Issei ~~and Kiyoomi~~ VS Koutarou ~~and Shouyou~~ VS Tooru ~~and Keiji.~~ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Twitter @mattsuhana


	24. The trees are Yaku's domain

**MAR. 18**

Atsumu sighed and let his head hit the tree behind him. He looked up at the sky, bored out of his mind.

_‘What if Tobio got Yakkun out? I highly doubt it.’_ He sighed and rolled his head to the side. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw some movement. Atsumu sat up to get a better look. Through the leaves, he spotted Koutarou. He seemed out of breath like he had been running for a while, and he stopped at a tree a little ways away, pulling out a bottle of water from his backpack to take a quick refreshment. _‘It wouldn’t kill Yakkun to let me get out Bokuto, would it?’_

Atsumu grinned as he grabbed the branch beside him, grabbing ahold of it and letting himself jump down. He landed for a log that sat on the ground so his feet didn’t crunch any leaves as he crouched down. Pulling the hoodie over his head to hide his noticeable hair color, Atsumu started to make his way toward the unknowing owl. He decided to mess with him at first because why not?

Atsumu carefully made his way over, hiding behind a tree as he snatched Koutarou’s unattended backpack behind his back. It took Koutarou a second of regrouping before he turned to grab his bag where he left it to find it missing.

“What?” Koutarou mumbled to himself, confused. “Oh, fuck.” Atsumu stepped out from behind the tree, backpack in hand with a smile on his face.

“Missin’ somethin’, Bokuto?”

“You really had to steal my bag?”

“You’ll get it back.” Atsumu took a step closer. “Come grab it then.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because all my weapons are in there, and I have nothing, and I’m not stupid.”

“Ya gonna run from me then?”

“I was thinking about it,” Koutarou muttered. “Though I’m kind of tired of running and I stand no chance.”

Atsumu laughed. “We’re against Hanamaki. None of us stand a chance.”

“What’s the deal with Hanamaki being the best out here?”

“He’s terrifyin’.” Atsumu said. “So is Yakkun so thankfully, I'm his partner, but hey.”

“What?”

“Catch.” Atsumu threw the bag in Koutarou’s face and quickly moved to him, _‘killing’_ him as he fumbled with the bag thrown at him. When Koutarou realized what happened, he sighed.

“Nice," Koutarou admitted.

“I know right?” Atsumu smiled. “Have fun gettin’ back.”

Koutarou groaned and swung his bag on his back. “Thanks.”

_  
  
_

_Atsumu and Morisuke VS Tetsurou and Hajime VS ~~Tobio and~~ Takahiro VS Issei ~~and Kiyoomi VS Koutarou and Shouyou~~ VS Tooru ~~and Keiji.~~ _

* * *

Tooru leaned against a tree, staring down at the paper in his hand. He had made up a map of the place as quickly as he could, sketching out all the things that he was familiar with. It was all that he could think to do to get an advantage even though he doubted he’d win.

He walked the forest to one of the edges to try and stay far away from anyone else as he possibly could. The analyzer thought he would wait until everyone else _‘killed’_ each other and then would pop out with a win. That was really his only strategy right now.

“You look like you’re in deep thought.” 

Tooru froze, and he swore his face went pale. He looked up slowly from the paper, staring straight ahead of him. His eyes locked with a familiar green pair, and they were so close to his face too, merely inches away. “Fuck,” Tooru whispered.

“What are you working on?” 

Tooru sighed. “A map that will now be useless to me,” he said while looking over at his bag that was only a foot away from him yet still out of arm’s reach. “Because I’m _dead_.”

“So can I have it?” Hajime asked. Tooru looked him up and down ― or down and up? He hung upside down from the tree Tooru was leaned against, legs wrapped around a branch. Tooru could spot the sniper that he left up there but there was still the threat of the knife in Hajime’s hands.

He sighed. “I guess since I want anyone but Yakkun or Makki to win,” Tooru mumbled as he handed over the paper.

“Thanks,” Hajime grinned as he accepted the paper and slipped it into his jacket. Tooru sighed again, staring down at his bag as if he was still thinking of a way to get away. “Hey, Oikawa.”

“What?” He asked in a mumble, half paying attention to what was happening around him. Hajime chuckled, and he reached to him, putting a hand on his cheek. That gathered the other’s attention almost immediately, and he looked to Hajime. “Iwa?”

Hajime swung forward a little, catching his lips with Tooru’s. The other’s eyes shot open, Tooru reached out and put his hands to the sides of Hajime’s head, fingertips lightly skimming along the side of his face. He never got time to close his eyes before Hajime lightly dragged the plastic knife across Tooru’s knife to _‘kill’_ him, and he pulled away, swinging himself right side up on the branch.

Hajime grabbed the sniper from the tree and jumped down, standing in front of Tooru as he moved the sniper on his back. “See you later?”

“Later,” Tooru mumbled as he watched Hajime walk away. “Yeah, for fucking sure.”

_  
  
_

_Atsumu and Morisuke VS Tetsurou and Hajime VS ~~Tobio and~~ Takahiro VS Issei ~~and Kiyoomi VS Koutarou and Shouyou VS Tooru and Keiji.~~ _

* * *

The Accent turned from the scene where he took out Koutarou and started his way back to the trees where Morisuke was bound to return to, unless, of course, he had gotten _‘killed’,_ but Atsumu highly doubted that. He was walking in silence for a bit until he heard a familiar whistle behind him. Atsumu swore the blood drained from his body.

“Fuck,” Atsumu cursed under his breath as he turned. “Spare me, please.”

“Well, we both know I’m not going to do that," Takahiro said with a grin. Atsumu sighed. “You should’ve known better than to walk around without your partner, especially if your partner is Yaku and not me.”

“He went off to take out Tobio,” Atsumu groaned.

“Oh, Kageyama’s out?”

“He’s yer partner and ya didn’t know?”

Takahiro shrugged. “I wasn’t paying attention.”

“Ya were just goin’ batshit crazy, weren’t ya?” Atsumu asked through a sigh.

“Pretty much.” Takahiro spun the knife he held between his fingers. “Ready?”

“Are we fightin’?” The thief asked.

“No, we were going to head to the mall, pick up some new outfits, maybe head to the food outlets.”

“Sounds lovely.”

“Mhm,” Takahiro hummed with a smirk. “Do you want to see something I picked up from Yaku?”

“Not really,” Atsumu groaned. 

“Too bad.” Takahiro kicked up dirt in front of Atsumu’s face, landing it in the twin’s eye. He backed up a bit, staggering backward. Takahiro grabbed onto his arm before he could fall, putting the blade of his knife to Atsumu’s throat as he held him as if he was dipping him during a dance. “Romantic,” Takahiro said.

“Just kill me.”

“Ooh, harsh.” Takahiro smiled and swiped the knife across his neck. He pulled Atsumu back to his feet, and the newly eliminated player rubbed his neck with a frown. “You wouldn’t want to go on a date with me? We’ve been on plenty before.”

“Considering ya just killed me, I think I have a perfectly good reason to hold a grudge.”

“You can’t look past that?” Takahiro faked a frown.

“No.”

Takahiro clicked his tongue. “A shame.” He gave Atsumu a pat on the shoulder. “ _Catch ya later’_?” Takahiro asked as he mocked the other’s accent. Atsumu sighed and pushed him off, walking over to his bag and putting it on his shoulders.

“Whateva. Just hurry up and win or somethin’.”

_  
  
_

Takahiro began his way back, and he spotted the short one in the trees. He must’ve watched him _‘kill'_ Atsumu. Morisuke most definitely did. Takahiro lifted his chin and slowly stepped back. He was quick to turn on his heel and run in a sprint in the other direction.

Morisuke was probably going to win if they were to get in a fight. Takahiro was pretty sure of it. He always did. It wasn't as if Takahiro was really upset about losing. All he wanted was to be the one to take out Issei, so he ran away from the fight in the meantime.

_  
  
_

_~~Atsumu and~~ Morisuke VS Tetsurou and Hajime VS ~~Tobio and~~ Takahiro VS Issei ~~and Kiyoomi VS Koutarou and Shouyou VS Tooru and Keiji.~~ _

* * *

Getting away from Morisuke was, thankfully, not that hard. He wasn’t the type to race after people. The problem now was that Takahiro was already heading back in the direction of Issei, which was what he wanted. He wanted to face Issei again in a fight one-on-one, but he at least wanted some time to strategize, though he never got the chance to.

_  
  
_

Takahiro stopped in the middle of the path. He crossed his arms and turned. “Come out,” he said. It took a moment until Takahiro heard a heavy sigh and watched Issei come out from some bushes. “Hi,” Takahiro said with a grin.

“Hi,” Issei responded. “How did you see me?”

“You are six-foot-four, did you know that?”

“No, I did not. Thank you for informing me.”

Takahiro smiled. “You’re welcome.” He tapped the roof of his mouth with his tongue. “Are we going to dance now?”

“If you want,” Issei said with a lazy shrug of his shoulders. “I prefer salsa dancing.”

“Sexy, even for you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I dunno. Let’s figure out.”

Takahiro took the first step, a hand already on his knife as he darted forward, swinging the blade at Issei’s face. Issei was quick, locking his arm around Takahiro’s and twisting it down. He grabbed Takahiro’s other shoulder, turning him so his back faced him. Takahiro felt the blade get closer to his neck, and he drew his elbow back, stabbing Issei in the gut and dodging down. He rolled forward, dropping the weapon so he could plant his hands on the ground and roll from a handstand to his feet. Takahiro turned on his foot, standing up and regaining ground as quickly as he could.

“You’re like a little weasel,” Issei muttered.

“What do weasels eat?”

“Huh?” Issei’s eyebrow raised up. “Like, rats, mice, birds, frogs.”

“You’re a frog, I’m a weasel. Prepare to die.”

“Really?” Issei laughed.

Takahiro shrugged. “I thought it was fitting for you.”

“Well, sorry, but I’m more like the owl that swoops down and picks you up.”

“Weird but okay,” Takahiro muttered.

“You _just_ made that same analogy but on a smaller scale.”

“Yeah, but it’s funny when I do it,” Takahiro said. “I’m funnier than you.”

“I’m gonna kill you.”

Takahiro clicked his tongue. “Ooh, you wanna kiss me so bad you look stupid, Matsukawa.”

“Are you going to attack me or not?”

“Oh, you’re right, yeah.” 

Takahiro ran in again, this time dodging to the side before Issei could grab him. He stood up behind Issei, kicking him down to the forest floor without a second of hesitation. Issei rolled to the ground, standing back up quicker than Takahiro had thought which just made Takahiro stab the ground. Issei took that time to attack him, but Takahiro jumped back quickly enough.

“Can you just not?” Takahiro groaned. He darted in for the third time, moving out of the way of Issei’s quick, short swing to grab and hang onto his arm. Takahiro pulled his arm down, holding it and pulling him closer to him, which usually wasn’t the best idea for the person who could literally end you with one, fake stab. Though he held it tight enough for Issei to drop his weapon.

Issei gave him a weird look, neither of them had weapons in their hands. Instead, they were both locked in this position. It wasn’t as if either of them had a teammate left to finish the other off. So Issei was pretty surprised with Takahiro’s strategy, one that was quick and declared the whole thing over within a split second.

The torturer reached up and placed a quick kiss on Issei’s lips. It made him stagger back a bit, his shoulders and grip dropped giving Takahiro enough time to lean down for the knife and win.

Issei stared down at the plastic knife stabbing him in the gut.

“Are you _kidding_ me?”

Takahiro laughed. “Nope," he said as he let go of Issei and stepped back.

“That was so foul,” Issei muttered.

“And you can thank Hinata for the trick I learned.” Takahiro gave the knife a spin between his fingertips and landed the blade in his hand before he handed it off to Issei. “You’re the one who got all flustered from a kiss.”

“I didn’t expect it.”

Takahiro shrugged with a grin. “Expect the unexpected, Matsukawa.” He turned around with a grin. “Go on to the locker room now. Watch the experts handle this.”

“I hate you.”

“Mhm,” Takahiro hummed.

_  
  
_

Though when he turned, Takahiro hid his face, a light pink blush on his cheeks that he ignored. It almost matched his hair color if he hadn’t recently dyed it brighter, there was only a dull, faint tone on his cheeks.

_  
  
_

_~~Atsumu and~~ Morisuke VS Tetsurou and Hajime VS ~~Tobio and~~ Takahiro ~~VS Issei and Kiyoomi VS Koutarou and Shouyou VS Tooru and Keiji.~~ _

* * *

Just like that, Takahiro was walking again. Where? He had no fucking idea. With no teammate to head back to and not really a base he had ever set up, Takahiro was running free with this match. He was about to stop in his tracks again, noticing the pair of cat-like eyes watching him from the trees, but something else stopped him before he could deliberately do so. 

Hajime stepped in the path, a gun pointing at Takahiro.

The torturer raised his hands as if he was caught by police and smiled. “Hi, Iwaizumi,” Takahiro said.

“Hey.”

“Weather is nice?”

“No.” 

Takahiro sighed. “Shame.” He was about to rush in, hoping he would be able to dodge anything that Hajime shot at him (a pretty low chance but it was worth a try), but he never got the opportunity to move. Arms locked under his and pulled his back against their chest, locking him in place as Hajime fired off the gun, a BB hitting Takahiro straight in the gut. “ _Ow_ ,” he over-exaggerated, the arms that grabbed him letting him go. Takahiro turned his head and looked behind him. “You doubled teamed me?” He asked when he saw Tetsurou.

“I mean, we are a team,” Tetsurou said as Hajime walked over. “How many people did you take out?”

“Four,” Takahiro said. “Hinata, Sakusa, Atsumu, Matsukawa.”

“For fuck sake,” Hajime mumbled. "Matsukawa?"

Takahiro nodded."Yup," he said with a grin. “Any idea who is left?” Hajime shook his head, as did Tetsurou. Takahiro chuckled to himself, remembering the pair of eyes he spotted in the trees. “Good luck then.”

_  
  
_

_~~Atsumu and~~ Morisuke VS Tetsurou and Hajime ~~VS Tobio and Takahiro VS Issei and Kiyoomi VS Koutarou and Shouyou VS Tooru and Keiji.~~ _

* * *

“What did he mean by that?” Tetsurou asked a little after they started walking again.

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t even have a clue?”

“No,” Hajime said. “We just know for sure about the people we took out and Hanamaki’s team because Kageyama was not with him.”

“You mean Oikawa? The one _you_ took out? The one that _you_ kissed?” Tetsurou asked with a grin. Hajime stopped walking, Tetsurou crashed into him, his feet catching himself to stop from being knocked to the ground. Hajime was glaring at him with a harsh glare until his eyebrows lifted and his eyes grew wide. “What?” Tetsurou asked.

“You’re out.”

“What?”

Hajime pointed to his forehead. “Red paint,” he mumbled quietly. Tetsurou quickly lifted his hand up and checked. He looked down at his fingertips, rubbing them together. Hajime was right, red paint rolled between his fingers.

“Fuck.” Tetsurou backed up and turned around. “From where and when?”

“When?” Hajime scoffed. “You’re asking when? You got shot in the forehead with a paintball and you don’t know when?”

Tetsurou threw his hands up. “I didn’t feel anything!” He groaned. “I’ll head back then.”

“Yeah,” Hajime mumbled.

_  
  
_

_~~Atsumu and~~ Morisuke VS ~~Tetsurou and~~ Hajime ~~VS Tobio and Takahiro VS Issei and Kiyoomi VS Koutarou and Shouyou VS Tooru and Keiji.~~ _

* * *

  
  


Hajime was probably walking around nervous for a good thirty minutes. He was walking straight nonstop, always keeping a glance behind him, constantly checking. Honestly, he felt like he was going insane. He had no idea who was left, where they were, or how many people were left partnerless.

Something caused him to look down, he kicked something. He stopped walking, looked around him, and knelt down to see what it was. A tripwire.

“You’re fucking kidding me,” Hajime mumbled. He stood up with a sigh and looked up, catching to see Morisuke a few feet in front of him leaned against a tree. “What was it this time?” He asked.

“Timed myself for proof,” Morisuke said as he held up a stopwatch. “I ran ahead, set up a bomb trap, and waited for you to stumble across it.” He shrugged. “I set up an actual bomb that's connected to it but just disabled it so nothing actually happened.”

“So I’m dead?”

“You’re dead,” Morisuke said with a condescending smile.

“Again?” Morisuke nodded. Hajime sighed. “Who’s left?” He asked.

“I think―” Morisuke furrowed his eyebrows. “No one. I won,” he muttered.

“Are you shitting me?”

“You took out Oikawa?” Hajime nodded. “Hanamaki got out four people.”

“Yeah, Hinata, Sakusa, Atsumu, and Matsukawa.”

Morisuke nodded. “Yup. Akaashi and Bokuto are out too.”

“Akaashi I figured but why Bokuto?” Hajime asked.

“Bokuto was on his own when Atsumu took him out.” Morisuke sighed and began to clean up his trap’s mess. “That’s about it,” Morisuke said as he stood with the disconnected wire in his hand. “Winner winner, chicken dinner. Should we head back?”

Hajime sighed. “Yeah.”


	25. Heading on home

**MAR. 18**

All the people who were eliminated were waiting by the doors for the two to return. Hajime and Morisuke made their way over after about a five-minute walk, a frown on Hajime’s face, a smile on Morisuke’s.

“Dammit,” Tooru cursed under his breath once he saw Morisuke’s grin. 

Morisuke laughed. He walked past him, clapping a hand on his shoulder. “Get fucked.”

“Of course,” Takahiro said with a smug look as he crossed his arms, leaning toward Issei who stood next to him. “Yaku won. Called it.” Issei rolled his eyes and turned around to head back into the building, Takahiro following him.

Everyone started piling back in, heading to the locker rooms to change. Two stayed back though, Shouyou and Tobio.

* * *

Everyone else, with the expectation of the pair that had stayed behind, headed to the showers. Kiyoomi made way first, pushing past everyone and not even setting down his things, meanwhile, everyone else headed to their lockers to undress. 

The group of them tossed their clothes around until they finally reached the dirty, shared basket, messed around, whipped each other with towels, and laughed over how they performed.

“If I’m being honest,” Morisuke began to say as he tied the strings of his robe, everything had calmed down after around ten minutes, “I watched Atsumu get killed by Hanamaki.”

“What?!” Atsumu dropped his shirt. “Yer kiddin’ me.”

“No,” Morisuke chuckled. He crossed his arms. “What? You wanted me to go against Hanamaki?”

“That is true,” Takahiro said. “I would destroy both of you,” he added on while he slipped his shirt over his head. He bunched it up and aimed for the basket in the corner, throwing it and almost hitting Tooru in the back of the head. “Cash,” he whispered when he made it. “Anyway,” Takahiro spoke up, “I would’ve killed you.”

“Yeah right, Iwaizumi and I took you out in two seconds,” Tetsurou mumbled.

“You played dirty,” Takahiro said quietly with a small pout. Issei chuckled beside him. “Shut up,” he said, tossing him a glare. “I kicked your ass, Mr. _‘I’m the best at hand-to-hand combat’._ ”

“We both know that wasn’t a fair fight,” Issei deadpanned, remembering back to just how Takahiro had gotten the upper hand. 

“Why wasn’t it a fair fight?” Tooru asked.

“Shut up,” Issei hissed.

Takahiro grinned and shrugged, ignoring Tooru because for the love of God he did _not_ want to answer. “Whatever," Takahiro began with a shrug. "'Little this' up one sleeve, 'little that' up the other,” he said instead, and he turned to grab his towel from his locker. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Atsumu slip from the locker room to the showers carrying a towel and a clean robe. _‘Simping that hard for Sakusa, Atsumu?’_ Takahiro chuckled to himself and closed his locker. _‘Wow.’_

“What?”

Takahiro turned his head and looked at Issei. He stood in front of him shirtless with a hand on the door to his locker. There was something about the scars that marked Issei's chest that made Takahiro want to pull on the collar of his shirt as if it was choking him. Takahiro cleared his throat, looking down at the towel in his hand to point his face away from Issei. “Nothing, I didn’t say anything,” he mumbled quietly. For some reason, that’s when it hit Takahiro.

_‘God, I kissed him.’_

* * *

“In the center, dumbass,” Tobio said.

“I was close,” Shouyou mumbled. He lifted the gun and aimed again, shooting on the second inner ring. “I’m getting closer.”

Tobio had set up some targets in the woods for Shouyou. He brought the shorter one out to practice the smaller gun a bit. The pro gunsman was teaching him how to use bigger guns first, but it didn’t hurt to give him a little small lesson on handguns just in case he needed it for the future ― a hostage situation or something. He didn’t know.

“Yeah, you are,” Tobio agreed with a sigh.

“These are blanks, Kageyama,” Shouyou said. “It has to be different from how it shoots! I was doing fine a few days ago.” He lifted the gun and shot it. “See? I aimed for the middle and it’s a little off.”

Tobio raised his gun. “Mine feels normal,” he said.

“It’s definitely not normal,” Shouyou mumbled. “I feel like you out of all people should realize this isn’t how a normal gun feels.” Shouyou lifted his aim a little bit for the second ring near the top, shooting it. His shot hit dead on. “See? Now it hits the center when I aim a little up.” He frowned.

“Let me try shooting it with my aim off a bit like _you_ then,” Tobio said, pointing to a tree behind Shouyou. He fired the gun, the noise ringing a lot louder than Shouyou’s simple BB gun. At first, Shouyou didn’t feel anything, that was until he looked down at his arm. “Uh-oh,” Tobio mumbled. 

A bullet went right through Shouyou’s arm, and if Tobio had aimed a little to the right, it’d be in the center of his arm. Lucky, he had been testing if Shouyou’s _‘aim a little off to hit the target’_ worked, so Tobio had aimed a little off, resulting in it only skimming Shouyou’s arm.

“Ow!” Shouyou dropped his gun and put a hand over his arm, his palm slapping over the injury. “ _That’s_ why you didn’t see a difference!” Shouyou yelled. “You have a real gun, dumbass!” 

Tobio looked down at his gun. “I swear I grabbed the one with blanks,” he muttered.

“Well? You didn’t!” Shouyou exclaimed. “Didn’t you grab a gun from Hitoka?”

Tobio shook his head. “No, I grabbed my own, though I thought I switched the bullets,” Tobio explained. “Come on. Stop screaming.”

Shouyou looked at him with wide eyes and scoffed. _‘Unbelievable,’_ he thought as he followed Tobio in the direction of the building.

* * *

Atsumu made his way down the shower room hall to the back shower ― the very last one. The water was running, the curtain was closed. He had made sure to make his feet make noise on the tile to let the other know he was coming, and he lightly pushed the curtain to gather his attention. “Hey, Omi?” He called out.

“What?” Kiyoomi asked from the other side, slightly drowned out from the noise. 

“I gotcha a towel and a robe,” Atsumu said. “Ya went straight fer the showers, ya know? Ya kinda need these.” Kiyoomi moved the curtain aside to look at Atsumu. He looked down at what the other held and his face lifted, lips slightly parting in realization.

“Oh,” Kiyoomi said. Atsumu watched as the water dripped from his hair, and he swallowed his tongue.

“Yah,” Atsumu said. He watched as Kiyoomi reached into the shower and turned it off.

“I guess I was too focused on getting clean that I forgot.” He reached out for the towel, stopping his hand above it. “You’re sure these are clean?”

Atsumu nodded. “Yup. I'm sure. Had ‘em wrapped in plastic bags before I put ‘em in my bag.” Kiyoomi squinted. “I sanitized the bags too?” Kiyoomi scoffed, and since Atsumu was alone with Kiyoomi, he had no one to believe and back up his story about the curve he saw at the corner of Kiyoomi’s lips as he grabbed the towel with a small, soft, quiet chuckle.

“Stay here,” Kiyoomi said as he disappeared back into the shower with the towel. He closed the curtain. Atsumu stood there, waiting as Kiyoomi told him to with the robe in his hands. It took probably a minute or two for Kiyoomi to reach back out and take the robe from Atsumu before disappearing once again.

He opened the curtain a few moments later with the robe on, rope tied around his waist, a towel sat around his shoulders, his damp, dark curls falling over his face. Kiyoomi’s facial expression seemed a little softer than it had been when they had been waiting for Morisuke and Hajime to finish the match. He had probably been uncomfortable standing there waiting in his own sweat and just wanted to shower.

“Thanks,” Kiyoomi said. “I would’ve had to stay there until everyone left.”

“Or asked someone,” Atsumu said. “And no problem,” he added with a shrug, “ya woulda done the same fer me.” Atsumu frowned. “I think,” he mumbled quietly.

“I would.” Kiyoomi looked at Atsumu’s arm again. He reached out for it, lifting it and inspecting. Atsumu had taken the bandage off after the practice match considering he was sweaty. His thumb lightly brushed over it, and Atsumu twitched a little. “Sorry,” he mumbled. 

Atsumu shook his head. “It's fine.”

“Come to me after you’re done with your shower?” Kiyoomi asked, and his voice was soft as if he was embarrassed to ask. 

Atsumu nodded. “Yah, I will, Omi.” Kiyoomi hummed and walked off, Atsumu watching him before he disappeared back into the locker room. 

The twin took a deep breath, holding his own towel and robe in one hand as he placed his other hand over his beating chest. There was something about Kiyoomi that made him feel so different than being with anyone else. His heart was always racing; he always walked on his toes around the broken glass; for once he actually gave a shit what somebody else thought of him.

That was the power that Sakusa Kiyoomi held over Miya Atsumu.

* * *

“I got it, Osamu,” Hitoka said as they approached the locker room door.

“‘M just sayin’ I should check it out before ya just head in there.”

“I’m going to knock,” she said with a small laugh as she elbowed him a little.

“Fine,” he mumbled.

  
  


Hitoka knocked on the door to the locker room, a voice on the other side calling out _‘Come in!’_ almost right away. She could tell it was the happy voice of one Bokuto Koutarou. The armorer opened the door, a smile on her face as she looked around the locker room. Everyone was in there (with the exception of Kiyoomi, Atsumu, Tobio, and Shouyou) with either clean robes, towels around their waists, or already dressed to head home.

Takahiro sat on the bench in front of his locker with a towel sitting on his head. He leaned back with a wave. “Heya, Token,” he said, “you do know this is the men’s locker room, right?”

Hitoka rolled her eyes and walked in. “Of course, I do,” she said as Osamu slipped into the room behind her. “Atsumu told us you guys were having a practice match so we brought food,” she explained. “Since this room is disgusting―”

“I warned ya it’d be bad,” Osamu muttered. 

“I,” she began to say as she cast a glare back at Osamu, then looked back at everyone else, “will have these waiting in the lounge room," she explained.

Takahiro raised his hand.

Hitoka sighed. “Yes, Hana?”

“What’s the status on cream puffs?” He asked while letting his hand fall in his lap.

“There are some in the freezer if you want me to bring them out.”

Takahiro raised his hand again.

“Hana.”

“Can we get married instead?”

“Yes,” Hitoka answered without a second of hesitation. Osamu sighed from behind her. She looked back at him and smiled. “Osamu, jealousy isn’t cute.”

“‘M not jealous considerin’ I'm the one who goes home with ya,” he said.

“Don’t need to rub it in,” Takahiro said sadly. 

Hitoka laughed. “The cream puffs will be in the freezer of the lounge, Hana.”

“I love you.”

“Love you too,” Hitoka said and waved her goodbyes to the rest of them. “See you guys tomorrow!” 

  
  


Osamu and Hitoka dropped the food off in the lounge room ― Hitoka ran back to the kitchen to grab Takahiro his sweets ― and they began to make their way home again. 

“Ya seem really happy,” Osamu commented.

“Hana is fine, and he might be working in the field again now that, you know, he actually sleeps and isn’t exhausted to the point where it’s a hazard,” Hitoka explained. She wrapped her arm around Osamu’s and let out a happy sigh. “I’m really glad he’s back after three years.”

“Yeah,” Osamu agreed, “yeah, he’s insanely crazy too.”

“He’s like―” Hitoka bit her lip in search of the word.

“The tank.”

Hitoka nodded. “Hana is like the tank of the group.” She moved her hand down, slipping her fingers between Osamu’s. “Come on. We have to get to work early tomorrow for Atsumu and Sakusa.”

* * *

Everyone helped themselves to the food in the lounge room. They honestly probably got out quicker than they normally would have since it was a race for the food after Hitoka and Osamu left the locker room. Koutarou and Tetsurou had gotten there first, shoving each other out of the way as they fought over the tastiest looking piece of food. Keiji, Tooru, Morisuke, and Hajime stood back, watching the maniacs create chaos in the lounge room that seemed smaller with all of them clustered in there. 

The fighting ceased after a few minutes when Hajime had pushed his way through after getting tired of watching them battle it out telling them to just split the biggest piece and move on. They decided that was fine, picked a second piece randomly, and moved aside so everyone else could finally get their light meal.

They snacked on their meals and talked, a lot of Morisuke being told he was surprisingly really good, a lot of Tetsurou and Koutarou getting told down about how much they quote on quote _‘sucked’_.

Takahiro got some comments as well from the new co-workers there, a few talks of praise from Hajime for taking down Issei. His face had flushed a little red when he asked how he managed to do so, but he stayed controlled for the most part _(‘I have a few tricks up my sleeve’)._

It was a tiring day for all of them, getting back from working the practice match, but getting together to chat, laugh at each other, and just have fun was something that they rarely ever did. To them, it was a time that they all waited for, thinking that all the shit they went through was worth it if it meant to have conversations like this.

* * *

“Shouldn’t you have Konoha do this?” 

“Konoha went home already,” Tobio said, “also, I can fix a bullet wound.”

“‘ _Fix’_. I’m not a doll you accidentally shot, Kageyama,” Shouyou said. “I’m a person.”

“The sewing is the same.”

“I don’t think so,” Shouyou mumbled.

Tobio simply shrugged, “I’d sew it the same way.” Shouyou sighed which turned into a sharp inhale through his teeth once he felt the pinching needle going through his skin. A hand with a rubber glove grabbed his arm, holding it still as the other hand worked the small, sharp stick through. “Whatever, you’re lucky it went straight through your skin.”

“Lucky?” Shouyou scoffed. “Yes, I’m so very lucky to have been shot.”

“I mean, it could’ve been worse,” Tobio said as he continued talking. He knew it was better to talk and keep the other distracted than let the two sit in silence and have the injured one focused on just his injury. “I could’ve had to dig it out. This way, I just have to sew together two holes.”

“And replace my blood,” Shouyou added in a mutter.

“That too.” 

Tobio was quick with patching Shouyou up, the shorter one was actually kind of impressed with it. The other one wasn’t a doctor but Shouyou guessed that fixing bullet wounds and being a pro gunman went pretty hand and hand. 

“Thanks,” Shouyou mumbled, “for shooting me, I guess.” He sighed. “Makes me want to give up on learning guns.”

“Don’t. They’re cool,” Tobio said as he began to clean up. He tossed away all the trash before pulling off the gloves and tossing them in the trash, then he moved to the sink afterward to clean his hands. “A backbone.”

Shouyou rolled his eyes. “Whatever.” He bumped his shoulder ― now considered his good shoulder for now ― into Tobio’s. “Buy me dinner on the way home to make up for it.” He headed to the exit, waiting at the opened door for the gunman.

Tobio smiled and scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Fine, whatever.”

* * *

Atsumu did as Kiyoomi told him to ― he didn’t know why he was always quick to follow along with what he said as if Atsumu was a dog, but he did it anyway. After he finished his shower, Atsumu slipped from the locker room and headed to Kiyoomi’s office. It was another exchange of Kiyoomi treating Atsumu’s burn for the third time in a row.

“Ya know ya could just teach me how to do it instead of doin’ it fer me every time?” Atsumu asked, looking down at how Kiyoomi held onto his arm, his touch so soft. The touch of the rubber glove pressing against his skin gave him a shudder regardless of the latex feel.

“It’s fine,” Kiyoomi said.

“I'm wastin’ yer time.”

“If I thought you were wasting my time, I would tell you.”

“Right,” Atsumu mumbled quietly. “Got it.” Kiyoomi took a glance at him before he started to wrap a new bandage around his arm. He let out a soft sigh as he slowed his movements. Atsumu wasn’t sure if it was to drag out the time, to be careful, or both. 

“The job?”

“Huh?” It took a few seconds before Atsumu realized what he was talking about. “Oh, tomorrow.” He nodded. “Tomorrow mornin’ we leave early, like seven AM. ‘Samu and ‘Toka said they packed up food fer us too.”

“Okay.”

“Ya know ya don’t hafta do this with me,” Atsumu clarified. “Ya could do other work things.”

“How many times do I have to tell you―”

“Yah, yah, yer doin’ it ‘cause ya wanna or whateva,” Atsumu interrupted, flicking his other wrist that wasn’t busy being held up by Kiyoomi as he cut off the end of the bandage. “Just don’t understand why,” he quietly said under his breath.

“Ignore the why then,” Kiyoomi said as he let go of Atsumu’s arm and pulled off the gloves. 

“‘Lright but doesn’t mean I'm not curious as all hell.”

“I can live with knowing you were just _‘curious’._ ”

Atsumu sighed. “I can’t.”

“That’s not my problem.” Kiyoomi cleaned up the mess that was made which wasn’t much. Honestly, if it was Atsumu, he would’ve left it out and headed home just to clean in the morning. It was a few wrappers and a pair of scissors, the medical kit, and a tube of the burn ointment he had been using on Atsumu.

“How do ya get the ointment on yer back yerself?” Atsumu subconsciously asked in a whisper, not even realizing he said it until Kiyoomi looked at him. His hand motion stopped with the disinfectant wipe on the desk until it slowly started to move as he looked back down again. The twin was about to apologize, but Kiyoomi answered.

“I can reach.”

“Everywhere?” Atsumu asked. Kiyoomi stood up straight, dropping the wipes in the trash. He lifted his hand, using his other one to bend back his wrists. “That’s gross,” Atsumu said, commenting on the double jointing in Kiyoomi’s wrists.

Kiyoomi rolled his eyes. “It’s a little hard but whatever. I get it done and that’s what matters.” Atsumu nodded, watching as Kiyoomi slipped on his jacket. He walked over to the twin as he snatched his keys off his desk and put a hand to Atsumu’s back, lightly pushing him out of the door. “Come on or you’re going to wake up at the wrong time and we’re going to end up leaving late.”

“Pushy,” Atsumu mumbled.

Though was he upset from the hint of contact? No, Atsumu definitely wasn’t. The feeling of Kiyoomi’s hand ― his whole hand, not just fingertips pushing on Atsumu’s back drew a shudder in the twin’s breath. 

* * *

Koutarou and Keiji walked out of the work building, a chilling feeling through both of them as they stepped out of the doors. It was late, cold, and probably past one of their bedtimes ― yes, they were adults but Koutarou needed sleep. 

The owl was a little tired, and he expressed it with a groan _and_ his words. “‘Kaashi, I’m tired,” he mumbled.

“I know, Bokuto,” Keiji said as they walked to the cars. They had parked near each other at least. The two had finished the small tutor lessons on weapons a while ago, neither of them having an excuse to crash at the other’s place. Instead, they both searched for other reasons to hang out with each other, though it was hard when they were both unsure about how the other felt. 

They stopped walking when they reached Keiji’s car, and he reached in, turning it on to heat it up. “You did well though,” Keiji said.

“I was taken out so quickly.”

“Bokuto, I got out first in the first ten minutes,” Keiji said as he got in the car. He rolled down the window, and Koutarou moved to lean on the door to keep eye level with Keiji. 

Koutarou laughed. “I guess that’s true.” Keiji smiled, putting his foot on the brake and taking the car out of park.

“Be careful on your way home ― no sleeping on the wheel.”

“I won’t,” Koutarou said, lifting his hand and crossing his fingers. “I promise.”

“Good.” Keiji reached forward, pressing his lips to Koutarou’s cheek and giving it a kiss. “See you later, Bokuto.” 

Koutarou stood up straight, a hand moving to his cheek as his face burned red. “Yeah,” he mumbled quietly. “See you tomorrow.” Keiji gave a small wave and rolled up the window before driving off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Twitter @inuokkotsu
> 
> If you look back before the practice match started, the order in which they talked was the result of the practice match (like Yaku and Atsumu talked first, Akaashi and Oikawa talked last). Idk it was just a small little detail I added


	26. Warning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mention neglect and abuse

**MAR. 19**

The morning that Atsumu woke up, he was a bit tired. Even though he hadn’t done much during the practice match and he was an active person, he felt a bit sore. Maybe it was all the climbing the trees he had done. 

He brushed it off and headed to work, making his way up the sidewalk to the building. The morning was chilly, a light breeze as it seemed there always was. He held a cup of coffee in his hand that was already half empty, and he felt like he could sleep for about ten more years if he really wanted to or had the chance to. Atsumu hoped that Kiyoomi would want to drive. Maybe then he could take a nap in the car ride or something.

  
  


“Atsumu.” Speaking of the devil, the one that Atsumu had been thinking about was the voice of the caller behind him. The twin stopped and turned, waiting for the other to catch up. 

“Mornin’, Omi,” Atsumu said with a yawn. “Yer bright an' early.”

“We said seven AM.”

“I know,” Atsumu said as he turned to continue walking. Kiyoomi followed him, and Atsumu felt their arms brush together. The only thing that was different was Kiyoomi didn’t flinch. Something about that made Atsumu’s lips curve upwards a bit. “I just don’t like it.”

“Why didn’t you say another time then?”

“I dunno,” Atsumu muttered as they walked through the front doors. “Ya seemed fine with it.”

Kiyoomi looked over at him and sighed, a faint chuckle slipping his lips. “Whatever.” His eyes lowered down to Atsumu’s arm, right where the burn sat, or at least where he knew it sat. Atsumu wore a jacket. It sat comfy over his shoulders and _might_ have been a size too big but that was just how Atsumu liked his clothes. “Come to my office?” He asked.

Atsumu looked at him, and then followed his line of sight. He lifted his arm up a bit, the arm with the burn held his drink, and blinked a few times at it. Atsumu looked at Kiyoomi and put his arm back down, nodding and following the mysophobe to his office.

  
  


The twin sat down on the table, which was weird that Kiyoomi had let him do in the first place. When he shifted to sit on the desk and realized that Kiyoomi would yell at him, he was about to move off of it. That was until he saw Kiyoomi pass him a glance and not even glare, so Atsumu stayed on the desk, hands in his lap as he waited for Kiyoomi.

Kiyoomi did the normal routine, washed his hands, dried them, then slipped on a pair of gloves. He walked up to Atsumu with the ointment and bandage, setting the medical wrapping on the desk as he looked at the twin.

“Jacket.”

“Right, sorry,” Atsumu muttered as he slipped the jacket down. “It’s definitely gettin’ better, yah?” Atsumu asked as Kiyoomi grabbed his arm. He didn’t say anything, just nodded to Atsumu’s question. The twin sucked through his teeth at the feeling of Kiyoomi spreading the medicine. “Always cold,” he whispered.

“Baby.”

“That’s cute of ya to call me.”

“No, I was calling you a baby as an insult.”

“That’s cold,” Atsumu muttered.

“No, the ointment is cold.”

“Did―” Atsumu raised an eyebrow at him, and he let out a small laugh. “Omi, didya just make a joke?” He asked, slightly amused. Kiyoomi stayed quiet as he wiped off the ointment from the gloves so he could wrap the bandage around Atsumu’s upper arm. “Ya did!” Atsumu laughed a bit, leaning back slightly. “Ya made a joke! Omi made a joke!”

“Shut up.”

“It was good! Why ya gettin’ grumpy?” Atsumu laughed again. There was a smile on Kiyoomi’s face as he finished with the new wrap around Atsumu’s arm. “Omi,” Atsumu dragged out the name as Kiyoomi pulled away, slipping off the gloves and beginning to clean up. “Come on, admit it.”

“Admit what?”

“Admit that ya like hangin’ out with me.” Atsumu pulled his jacket back on his shoulders and picked up the coffee he placed on the counter. He brought it to his lips, lifting both eyebrows at Kiyoomi as he waited for a response.

Kiyoomi sighed as he closed the box and reached to place it in a small cabinet. “I like hanging out with you," he said. Atsumu almost choked on his coffee, well, he did, a little bit. He quickly lowered the cup after feeling the drink going down the wrong hole and beat on his chest, hacking out a cough. The twin tried to twist it into a laugh as he tried to find air.

Kiyoomi was way too straightforward with his words sometimes for Atsumu’s health. He put a hand over his mouth, coughing into it slightly to get the last bit stuck out of his throat. His attention moved to Kiyoomi though when the other stood right in front of him, leaning toward him a little.

“W-what?” Atsumu asked quietly as he moved his hand down.

“How come you can be all playful and confident with people but when someone does it to you, you turn into a flustered mess?” Kiyoomi softly asked with his face inches from Atsumu’s. It was strange if you asked someone who knew Kiyoomi for so long. He had never been this close to someone, yet here he was.

“Uh, prolly ‘cause I can dish it out but can’t take?” He answered in a small voice, and he swore Kiyoomi leaned closer. “How come ya sendin’ it back my way?”

“Why not?” Kiyoomi asked. They kept like that for a few moments. That was until there was a voice shouting down the hallway. Kiyoomi had a smug look on his face as he backed away from Atsumu just in time for the other twin to be standing at the door.

“Ya guys are already here?” Osamu asked.

Atsumu cleared his throat. “Yah, why?”

“Nothin’,” Osamu muttered quietly. It was obvious he suspected something. He could read Atsumu like a book. “Hey, Sakusa, can ya go give these to ‘Toka?” He asked while holding out a set of keys. “Kitchen keys. Forgot to give ‘em to her before comin’ to see if ya were here or not.”

Kiyoomi nodded and grabbed the keys from Osamu, slipping from the room and leaving the twins alone. 

  
  


“So,” Osamu began to say with a smirk as he stepped further into the room. He leaned against the wall, crossing his arms with a cocky grin. “What was that ‘bout?”

“What was what?” Atsumu asked as he slid off the desk. He knew he couldn’t lie to Osamu though, especially not when his eyes were pricking at the side of his skull. “Fuck off.”

“‘M right.”

“Aren’tcha always ‘bout these kinda things?” Atsumu quietly mumbled under his breath as he moved to saunter past Osamu. Osamu grabbed his arm, careful of the burn he was perfectly aware of since Atsumu had called him at three AM complaining about it a few times ― he left Kiyoomi out of that detail that he _did_ complain about it and how it stung during the night, not wanting to upset Kiyoomi. 

“Usually,” Osamu said with a shrug. “Good luck with it.”

“Shuddup.”

* * *

After a few hours, the day began for everyone else. The rest of the members showed up slowly but surely, some of them tired, some of them ready for anything the day would throw at them, some of them not quite sure what they were doing there because they didn’t believe anything _would_ happen. Thankfully, Tooru had something that would spice up their day.

The original members of the organization sat in the lounge room, Takahiro sat on the back of the couch. Morisuke took a seat next to where the torturer's legs had been spread out in front of him. Keiji stood by the fridge with a cup of coffee and a few pieces of paper in his hand, probably some paperwork ― it seemed he was always busy with something. Tooru sat at the table, head in hands, leaned over on the chair as he explained what had happened unexpectedly during the practice match.

“You’re shitting me,” Takahiro whispered. He laughed loudly. “You’re telling me Iwaizumi kissed you? Upside down? Hanging from a tree?”

“Yes.”

“My god!” Takahiro laughed harder. He leaned over to Morisuke, slapping him on the shoulder. “Dude―dude! That’s―” Takahiro bit his tongue and sat up straight. “Dude, that is seriously so romantic. It’s like a heartfelt movie.”

“He killed me afterward, Makki.”

“Yes, but the movie can be about two lovers who must fight to the death.” Takahiro clasped his hands together. “It’s perfect. I have time to write it, too. I’ll do it tonight.”

“You’re a prick.”

“Yeah, but what are you gonna do about it?” Takahiro asked with a chuckle. Tooru moved to silence, shrinking down and holding his hands in his lap. 

“I kissed Bokuto.”

“What?” Takahiro said while snapping his attention to Keiji. 

“Yeah, what now?” Morisuke turned to attention. “You did what?” 

“I kissed him,” Keiji said with a shrug as he took a sip of coffee. “Just on the cheek.”

“ _‘Just on the cheek’_ he says,” Takahiro said.

“I also kissed him a while ago.”

“Come again?” Tooru asked this time.

“That one job,” Keiji muttered.

“The _‘blah, blah, blah’_ that you left out?” Morisuke asked. Keiji nodded. “I knew it.”

“Wow,” Takahiro gasped. “You’re so into Bokuto.”

“Yeah, so?” Keiji glared. “What have you done with Matsukawa?”

“Man, that was evil,” Takahiro said quietly. “Haven’t done a damn thing,” he added in an even softer voice, and suddenly, he fell quiet. 

“How have you guys not done anything yet?” Morisuke asked. He leaned back on the couch. “You’re constantly together.”

“And I am now going to take my leave,” Takahiro said as he hopped off of the couch. “I have better things to do than being teased about if I’ve sucked dick or not.”

“We never― ”

“Hush, tiny man,” he cut Morisuke off. Morisuke kicked him in the back, Takahiro had to catch himself with the table before he fell over it. “Fucking―”

“Call me that one more time―”

  
Takahiro quickly turned to him, taking a safe step back. “And you’ll what?” They glared at each other for a few seconds, Keiji and Tooru just watching from where they stood. The Morisuke and Takahiro rivalry was always the same, always there, and always resulted in one of them possibly beating the shit out of the other, but at the end of the day, they always laughed it off. “Exactly,” Takahiro said as he started to leave the lounge room. “See you, losers.”

“Where are you going?” Tooru asked. “I’m trying to scream about Iwa kissing me and you’re just going to _leave_?”

“Yes.” Takahiro waved the other two goodbye. “Later.”

* * *

Takahiro knocked on the office door before letting himself in, not even waiting for a response from the person on the other side. He stepped in, closing the door behind him.

“You defeat the purpose of knocking, you know that?” Issei said from the couch in his office. His feet were propped up on the low coffee table. He had something playing on the TV but it seemed he wasn’t paying attention to it. A book laid in his lap, a cup in his hand which Takahiro assumed to be caffeine.

“Yeah, but at least you know I’m coming,” Takahiro said as he walked into the room, taking a seat next to Issei on the couch. He leaned over, looking over the text that sat on the pages before sighing. “I can’t believe you’re reading.”

“What else am I gonna do?”

“I don’t know,” Takahiro said with a shrug. “Browse the internet like a normal teenager.”

“I’m twenty-four.”

“Mhm,” Takahiro hummed. He put his feet like Issei’s were, tilting his head back and closing his eyes. “Hey, I got a question.”

“Shoot.”

“Right before I was put under, you told me you were going to tell me about your past.”

“That’s not a question.”

Takahiro backhanded Issei in the chest. “That’s not my point,” he said, opening his eyes and looking at the trained fighter next to him. “Tell me, I’m curious.” Issei sighed, picking up his book and tossing it on the table between where their feet sat. 

“I grew up fighting.”

“Like, _a little four-year-old Matsukawa Issei punching-his-uncle-in-the-balls-every-thanksgiving dinner_ type fighting?”

“I’d prefer that.” Issei sighed and slouched on the couch. His head rested on the back of it, his eyes staring up at the ceiling. Takahiro could tell his past wasn’t something that he brought up often but was it anybody's? The torturer didn’t know anyone in the building who was fine with talking about how they were raised, other than Hitoka and Tooru. “No, it was more like I fought to survive because my dickhead parents wouldn’t provide for me.”

“So, neglectful parents?” Takahiro asked.

“I wish,” Issei whispered. “No, it was a past full of cigarette burns, punches, and screaming.”

“I see,” Takahiro mumbled quietly. “Sorry.”

“I mean, it’s over with now, so I don’t care that much,” he said with a shrug. “I did underground fighting until one day, I kicked Bokuto’s ass in a fight, and he offered me to work with him.”

“Really?”

Issei nodded. “Yeah, that’s how I met Bokuto. I kicked the shit out of the boss’ son.”

“Wait,” Takahiro sat up, tucking one of his legs under him so he could better turn and look at Issei. The fighter lifted his head, looking back at Takahiro. “Bokuto was the boss’ son?”

“The old agency we left, yeah. His parents were the bosses. You didn’t know that?”

“Well, I had an idea but no one ever confirmed,” Takahiro said. “Just,” he shrugged, “surprised, I guess. That makes sense why he was targeted for getting kidnapped. They must’ve recognized him easier.”

Issei agreed with a nod. “Yeah, he’s always been a pretty big target. Hinata too simply because there are people that want him dead and he works with Bokuto a lot.”

“Mhm,” Takahiro hummed and fell back on the couch. They fell into silence before Issei looked over at Takahiro. He lifted his arm, swinging his hand back to tap the other on the shoulder.

“Hey,” he said, “you told me about your past with working here but never about what got you into it.”

“‘ _It_ ’,” Takahiro repeated. “Torturing?” He asked. Issei nodded. “Parents,” Takahiro answered as if it was obvious. “My mom wasn’t all for it, at first,” he began. “Though my dad really pressured me into it at a young age ― they both were torturers so they wanted me to be one too.”

“How young?”

“How’s seven?”

Issei’s eyes widened. “You started torturing people at _seven_?”

Takahiro shrugged. “Yeah. I’ve built a tolerance, I guess. I grew up having to listen to my parents torturing people in the basement. I guess instead of being scared I was―” Takahiro bit his lip and squinted a little. “Interested?”

“Bit psychotic.”

“Thanks.”

“No problem.”

Takahiro chuckled and fell back into the couch. Something about sharing the things about him made him feel a bit relaxed. Especially with Issei. He had already felt comfortable around him, but knowing about him and vise versa, Takahiro felt a bit safer.

Issei picked up his book again, opening up to the page it was on before Takahiro interrupted him and began reading again. Takahiro let his head fall on Issei’s shoulder, his eyes reading with Issei at first but slowly drifted shut.

* * *

Tooru was at his desk working on whatever reports he could find. It was something with a new job, something Keishin had sent him to figure out. He wanted to know Tooru’s opinion on working that job, and if so, who to send, what to do, et cetera, et cetera. 

A knock on the door grabbed his attention, and the person standing at the door made his heart skip that very much needed beat. He felt a quick stab at his heart as he choked on air. “Iwa,” he said. “What’s up?”

Hajime stepped into his office, shutting the door behind him before he made his way over. He put his hands on the desk, looking over at Tooru’s screen. “What are you doing?” He asked.

“Uh,” Tooru stuttered, “something for Keishin. Why?”

“How’s your knee?” Tooru squinted a little, suspicious as to why Hajime seemed to be dodging Tooru’s questions. He pushed it aside and scooted his chair back, staring down at his knee. The analyzer gave an effort to bend it back and forth, testing just how his knee was right then and there. There felt a slight pinch that grew into a bigger ache that he bit back to show the pain in his face.

“Could be better,” Tooru said, technically not lying. “Are you going to answer my question now?”

“The _‘what am I doing’_ question?” Hajime asked. Tooru nodded. “Checking in on you.”

“Why?” Tooru scoffed. “You’re not my mother, Iwa.”

“No, I think that’d be pretty weird.” Tooru raised an eyebrow. The sniper leaned closer now, his face inches from Tooru’s. “You know.”

“Right,” Tooru squeaked out in a whisper. “Right, yeah.” The pose lasted a bit, the two of them paused there without doing anything. “Are you going to kiss me again? Please say _‘yes’_.”

“You want me to?”

“I didn’t say, _‘please say ‘yes’’_ for no reason, Iwa.”

“Mhm, good point,” Hajime said, reaching forward with one hand. He dragged the back of his hand down Tooru’s cheek. The analyzer felt his face get warmer by the second, numbness in his fingertips. Hajime finally closed the gap, pressing his lips to Tooru’s who let his eyes flutter shut. The kiss was soft, light, something that made Tooru crave more than just that. Hajime let his tongue lightly graze Tooru’s bottom lip before he pulled away, a grin on his face as he knew _exactly_ what he had just done.

Hajime turned around, leaning on the desk as he crossed his arms. “So,” he began to say, “probably a second date, yeah?”

“Huh?” Tooru snapped to reality. He had his hand brought up to his lips, his fingertips were touching his bottom lip. “Oh,” he mumbled quietly, “uh, yeah, sure, definitely, most ― yeah.” Hajime laughed. “Quit laughing,” Tooru muttered. “You’re really hot. You can’t just _do_ that.”

“Apologies.”

“Apology not accepted.” Hajime looked over at Tooru, and Tooru smiled like an idiot, a wide grin on his face. The sniper just chuckled and pushed off the desk, Tooru slapped himself in the cheek when the other had looked away. 

“Come on,” Hajime said.

“Where?”

“We’re going to figure out the problem with your knee.”

Tooru raised an eyebrow. “Pretty sure I’ve tried just about everything in my last three years, Iwa.”

“Just come on, would you?”

Tooru sighed and stood up from his desk. “Alright, alright, fine.”

* * *

Koutarou stared at the weights in front of him. 

“Seriously?” He sighed. “Come on.”

“Hey, if you’re so strong, go on then, Bokuto,” the physical trainer said with a grin, and he slapped Koutarou on the back. “If you’re fine, you won’t have any problems with this.” 

“Fine,” Koutarou mumbled. He leaned down to pick up the weights in front of him. They were simple weights, and more were lined up in front of him, the sizes and weight of them were clearly getting bigger and bigger as he moved his eyes down the line of them. The trainer was there with him, running through just to test how heavy of weights he could lift, though he felt a little insulted that he made him start at the lowest weights. Koutarou could lift ten pounds.

He was curling the weights, at least five each, when the door opened behind him. They both turned to look.

“Yahoo, hey, Tanaka, Bokuto,” Tooru called out as he stepped in. Koutarou gave him a smile as he set down the weights, looking up and watching as Hajime came in the gym room after him. 

“Hey, Iwaizumi, Oikawa!” Koutarou said. “What’s up?”

“Knee things,” Tooru replied. He looked at Ryuunosuke. “So I think we gotta talk about it.”

“Finally,” Ryuunosuke replied with, arms crossed. He wore a black tank top and shorts as he always tended to do when he had to come into work. Today he had dropped by to help Koutarou with his physical training. “You can’t hide from it forever, Oikawa.”

“I know,” Tooru said with a huff as he walked further into the room. He sat down on one of the weight benches and stretched his legs out in front of him. 

Ryuunosuke walked over, leaning down right next to him. He grabbed Tooru’s leg, lifting and bending his knee back and forth in a pattern that Tooru was unaware of. Tooru’s face was full of twisted responses, his hand gripping tightly on the seat as his teeth sunk down into his bottom lip.

“Mhm,” Ryuunosuke hummed, and he stood up, crossing his arms. His eyebrows were knitted in thought as he stared at the injured knee.

“What?” Tooru asked. “What does that mean?”

“You’ve injured your knee a lot.”

“I know that," Tooru said as he rolled his eyes. Ryuunosuke bit his lip, struggling with searching for a response. It was obvious that he was looking for a way to say it that wasn’t too harsh. “Tanaka,” Tooru said sternly. “Be honest.”

“Okay,” Ryuunosuke said with a sigh. “I don’t want to say this is a hundred percent, but from what I’ve seen, I’m afraid that if something happens to your knee again, you’ll either be paralyzed or unable to work in the field. _Ever_ again.”

Tooru felt his throat go dry, and his grip on the chair turned his knuckles white. 

_‘Never be able to work in the field ever again? I just got back. I hate being stuck back at the office. I hate it, I hate it so much. I feel nothing here_ ― _’_ Tooru flinched when a hand touched his shoulder, and he turned to look behind him. Hajime stood there, but he didn’t look down at him. Tooru was sure if Hajime was looking at him then those eyes would be giving him some type of pity he didn’t want. 

“I’d say be _very_ careful, Oikawa,” Ryuunosuke said.

“Right,” Tooru whispered. “Yeah, thanks,” he said while standing up. He didn’t look at anybody as he started to walk to the door. “Come on, Iwa.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Twitter @inuokkotsu


	27. Leisure

**MAR. 19**

As the only one in there that morning, Tetsurou laid on the couch in the lounge room. He read one of the books that Morisuke had given him about bombs, trying to learn more about them so that he could possibly impress the shorter one by successfully making an explosive. It was different working with Fukurodani, Tetsurou had figured out a while ago. There were no people running around frantically or getting handed a job every second Tetsurou went to breathe. It was kind of relaxing, the way that Tetsurou could lay back and do something at his own leisure. 

Actually, Tetsurou was so drowned in his book that he only realized when someone had walked in the room when they dropped themselves on the couch next to him. He looked up from the book, glancing over at the other person. “Oh, Yakkun,” he said. “What are you doing in here?”

“You’re reading?” 

Tetsurou turned the book so he could look at the cover, as could Morisuke, and nodded. “Yeah, you told me to.” Morisuke scoffed, a light chuckle slipping out as well as he pulled his feet underneath him and faced Tetsurou. His face looked soft to Tetsurou, at this specific moment at least. The light brown eyebrows lifted slightly, not a strained muscle in his face.

“Teach me about your specialty," he said.

“What?”

“I said teach me about your specialty,” Morisuke repeated. “I’ve taught you about bombs, teach me about knives.”

“You’re serious?”

“No, I asked for no reason just to spit in your face and walk away.” Morisuke rolled his eyes.

“Well, I wouldn’t be surprised if you did that.”

“Kuroo.”

“Okay, okay,” Tetsurou said as he folded a page in the corner of the book he was reading. He set it on the coffee table and stood up with a stretch. “Come on.” Morisuke stood up as well, and he raised an eyebrow at Tetsurou.

“Where?”

“Armory,” he said while making his way to the door. Tetsurou held it open with a smug look on his face. “I’m sure Hitoka is done cleaning all the weapons by now for the day.”

* * *

It took Tooru probably five minutes to find Keishin simply because the boss hadn’t been in his office like Tooru expected him to be. Instead, he was in one of the shared office rooms. It held the large printer and office supplies like pens, paper, sticky notes, et cetera. 

Tooru popped his head into the room, looking at Keishin with a worried expression at first. “Hey, boss,” he called out as he slowly stepped into the room. Tooru walked in like a scared child that had just broken a glass jar and had to tell their parents. He had his hands behind his back and a nervous smile on his face. “I got a question.”

Keishin looked up from the printer, already spotting something off with Tooru. His eyebrow quirked up slightly. “What?”

“So, I was wondering if I and another co-worker could perhaps, maybe, just a little bit of a chance, maybe we could have the rest of the day off?” Tooru asked in a jumble of words, hesitant words at that. He wasn't sure how to word it even with one of the closest people in his life. Keishin’s eyebrow never dropped, even when he looked back to the printer and punched another button. “I was just hoping since there’s nothing more going on today, nothing has been for a few days. We’ve been pretty unoccupied.” 

“Okay,” Keishin said, his face relaxing as he shrugged his shoulders. He held his hand out in the printer, letting the warm paper pile into his palm. 

“ _‘Okay’_?” Tooru reasked, watching closely as Keishin dropped the papers on its side to straighten them out. He flipped through them before clipping them on a clipboard, then looked up at Tooru with yet another shrug of his shoulders.

“Yeah, okay.” He chuckled a little, heading to the door and patting Tooru on the shoulder as he walked past. “You do enough for me anyway, Tooru ― more than enough for you to need to even explain why you want a break. Also, you’re right, there’s nothing going on, and even if there was, I can send Hanamaki out now.” He gave Tooru a small smile and left the room. 

  
  


Tooru let out a deep sigh of relief when he was left the only one in the room. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and texted the most recent contact.

  
  


**_Oikawa:_ ** _We’re good to go_

  
  


* * *

“Who’s buying dinner tonight?” Tobio looked up down at his lap, a sniper laid across it ― his favorite sniper. It was one that Hitoka let him basically, in a way, keep. He’d have to bring it back at least once a week, but other than that, it pretty much stayed in the gunman's office or car all the time. Shouyou sat on the couch, feet tucked underneath him as he stared at the TV screen.

“What?” Tobio asked.

“Dinner. Tonight. Who pays?” Shouyou asked.

Tobio scoffed. “Why would I get dinner with you again?”

“Because we did that one time!” Shouyou took his attention away from the TV and looked at the black-haired man sitting on the floor. He frowned. “You can’t tell me that wasn’t fun.”

“It would’ve been if you didn’t remind me every five minutes that I had shot you.”

“I think it was a pretty big deal,” Shouyou deadpanned, squinting at Tobio. “Plus, you deserve any amount of guilt that you felt.”

“I didn’t feel guilty for shooting you," Tobio said.

Shouyou threw a pillow at his face.

“Hey!” Tobio yelled, swatting the pillow away. When he looked over at Shouyou, the orange was frowning, arms crossed and leaned on the couch toward Tobio a little. He stared down at him for a change. Tobio chuckled a little. “Maybe I felt a little bad,” he admitted. Tobio looked back down at the gun and continued cleaning it, moving the rag softly up and down the barrel. 

Shouyou let out an annoyed huff and leaned back on the couch, putting his attention back to the screen in front of him. Tobio thought it was cute, a little bit. He wouldn’t tell anyone, it was hard to admit it even to himself. The way Shouyou got annoyed so easily yet was also so easily entertained. He seemed interested in what Tobio did, that was a plus. His energy got Tobio to do things he normally wouldn’t do. Before when Tooru would invite him out to get drinks with Keiji, Atsumu, and Takahiro, he would turn down every request.

Though now, Tobio found himself sighing as he looked at his co-worker sitting on the couch. “I’ll pay,” he said. Shouyou looked over at him with a beam on his face. “For my stuff. You can pay for your stuff.”

Shouyou frowned at first, but it shifted into a smile, the corner of his lips curving upwards. He laughed and nodded. “Okay, alright, fair,” he said. “But you’ve got appetizers.”

“Then you have dessert.”

“Ooh, Kageyama!” Shouyou chuckled. “Dessert.”

Tobio rolled his eyes. “Shut up.”

“Mhm,” Shouyou hummed with a grin. “Hurry up and clean your gun so we can go.”

“We still have to wait for the workday to be over with.”

“It’s almost five already.”

Tobio looked up to the clock on the wall. _Four forty-five_. “Oh.”

“Yeah, _‘oh’_ ,” Shouyou said as he stood from the couch. He picked up the pillow and tossed it back in its spot. “I’m gonna go get ready.”

“Oh, what you’re wearing isn’t fine?”

Shouyou looked down at his outfit. A white tank top, ripped blue jeans, not even shoes on considering they were in an office and he slipped them off by the door. The offices had nice flooring. “You’re kidding right?” He asked with a chuckle, and he tapped Tobio’s thigh with his toe as he passed by. “I’m giving you thirty minutes to meet me out front.”

“Fine,” Tobio replied, and Shouyou left the room.

  
  


Tobio let out a sigh, his head tilting back to stare at the ceiling. He felt like Shouyou’s behavior toward him was different than others, but was that true? Tobio wasn’t actually sure. Shouyou was the _‘friendly toward everyone’_ type.

The gunman sighed and looked back to his sniper. _‘Overthinking, Tobio. You’re overthinking.’_

* * *

Tooru headed out to the parking lot with only his set of keys and his coat. Considering all the time the analyzer had on his hands, he had gotten all of his work done ― one of the reasons why he accepted this date that Hajime had asked him on. The other reason being Hajime was hot as shit. Also, were they dating? Tooru wasn’t sure. 

In the parking lot leaned against his car, Tooru saw Hajime staring down at his phone as he waited for the other to come out. He walked up to him, stopping in front of him with a smile on his face.

“I take it that it worked?” Hajime asked.

“It was too easy, actually,” Tooru said with a light chuckle. “I technically didn’t even have to say why I wanted the day off.”

“He just gave it to you?” 

Tooru nodded. “Yeah,” he said, shrugging his shoulders a bit. “Keishin is like that ― with me, at least.” He sighed and pointed his head to the car. “Should we go then? Before we get called into something.”

Hajime smiled and opened the passenger door for Tooru. “Yup.”

* * *

“You know,” Takahiro began to say as he sat leaned on the back of the couch. He had his arms across his chest, chewing on his bottom lip with a fixed vision on the painting on the wall. Issei looked up from the book he held, his feet were propped up on his desk as he leaned back in the office chair. “We’ve never done a job that was just the two of us.”

“I guess we haven’t.”

“We have not.”

“What?” Issei asked. “Are you asking to do a job with me?”

Takahiro shrugged. “I’d like to see you on a real job without me trying to stay awake or kicking your ass.”

“That fight was unfair and you know it.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Takahiro said with a grin as he pushed off the back of the couch. He made his way over and put his palms on the desk, leaning over toward Issei from the other side. “What do you say? There’s nothing to do. Sakusa and Atsumu are on their own job, I think Iwaizumi and Oikawa are on a date, Yaku and Kuroo are―” Takahiro paused.

“Dating or something.”

“Yeah, I’m not quite too sure on their status,” he muttered with a frown.

“Gay or something.”

Takahiro nodded. “Definitely gay.” He reached over and closed Issei’s book. “Come on, nerd. Let’s look for something.” Issei sighed, his eyes following the book as Takahiro plucked it from his hands and held it to his chest as if he was guarding it from the fighter. He looked at the grin on Takahiro’s face, a sly smirk that looked healthier ever since he started to get sleep. It made his face look brighter, and that made something in Issei feel better. He contributed to that, didn’t he?; Tooru had told him he had an impact on him, right?

“Fine,” Issei said with a light chuckle as he put his feet to the ground, reaching for his computer to click on the monitor. “Let’s find something.”

* * *

This time, instead of getting two separate rooms, Kiyoomi and Atsumu got a room with two double beds in it. Atsumu had been surprised when Kiyoomi had told the front desk. He expected the germaphobe to prefer his own, personal space. Though he didn’t, Kiyoomi stared right at the woman at the front desk and said, _‘One room, two beds.’_

By the time they arrived at the hotel and got into the rooms, it was already late at night. Kiyoomi was exhausted from driving the whole day, so Atsumu wasn’t going to tease him with the, _‘Ah, Omi-omi, ya wanted to share a room with me?’_ He definitely wasn’t going to push his luck.

  
  


Atsumu sat on the edge of his bed. The twin had let Kiyoomi choose his bed first which took him about ten minutes. He stood by the door with his duffle bag as he watched the other look closely at each bed before finally choosing the one furthest from the doorway and closer to the windows. Maybe he thought it was cleaner, maybe he thought if he was closer to the windows then that meant he could easily escape if he found bed bugs or something ― Atsumu wasn’t sure.

He leaned over and worked his shoes off with his own feet, using his toes to hold the shoe up so he could kick it across the room by the wall. As he did that, he zipped down his jacket and pulled it off, tossing it on the back of a chair that was at the small desk in the room. 

“I'm sure ya wanna claim the shower first, huh?” Atsumu asked while he stretched his arms high above his head. He let himself fall back on the bed and stared up at the ceiling. If they hadn’t gone to a four-star hotel, he was sure there would’ve been stains up there, but thankfully, Kiyoomi refused to let them go to _‘something that disgusting’._ Atsumu didn't have a problem with it; the twin wasn't going to complain to receive a tiny bit of luxury that a four-star hotel gave.

“Yeah,” Kiyoomi muttered as he gave Atsumu a stare. He lifted his own bag and set it on the desk, fishing out a clean change of clothes before he left into the bathroom without another word. 

  
  


Atsumu had stayed there staring at the ceiling until the bathroom door opened again. He sat up on the bed, watching as the other stepped out of the bathroom with nothing but a towel around his waist, a headband pushing back his damp curls. The twin couldn’t help but stare, his spine straightening out like one of those wrist rulers when you snapped them back into place. 

Kiyoomi slightly red cheeks, probably from how hot his shower was ― Atsumu could see the steam pour out of the bathroom; the way that water dripped from his eyelashes and the curls of his hair; the way that the towel was slightly too small for him, Atsumu could see a part of his bare thigh with a few marks of moles ― how many did he have? Atsumu couldn’t help but stare, eyes meeting with the part of the burned scar that stretched slightly over his shoulder.

“Your turn,” Kiyoomi said.

“Huh?” Atsumu snapped. “Oh, yah, fuck,” he muttered, the warm feeling filling his cheeks that he hated. It made him feel like he was weak. He stood up and quickly grabbed his own clothes from his bag before rushing into the bathroom.

  
  


Atsumu shut the door behind him, putting his back to it with a sigh. He hugged his clothes and shut his eyes to slip into his mind, swallowing back the air in his throat he choked on. _'_ _God.’_ Atsumu let out a small groan. _‘He’s actually so fuckin’ hot ‘n fer what?’_ He opened his eyes and set the clean set of clothes on an empty part of the counter before looking at himself in the mirror. _‘Fuckin’ killer.’_

* * *

Hitoka sat at the desk in the back office of the kitchen, a pencil tapping at her lips as she leaned an elbow on the desk. She looked over papers, and she had been for the past few hours while Osamu worked on something in the kitchen. He had stayed late to make a new dish, something that he had been preparing for a few days, so Hitoka told him she had no problem staying in his office and working while he did his _‘chef things’._

She ran her teeth along her bottom lip, unsure of what she had written down on the paper. The twin had popped his head in the doorway, a towel in his hands wiping them off as he leaned on one foot. Osamu tossed it on his shoulder and stepped a foot in the room. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?” He asked.

“Huh?” Hitoka looked up. “Oh,” she hummed, her eyes looking back down at the paper. She dragged the tip of the pencil on a random piece of scratch paper she had been lazily doodling on and sighed. “I’m not sure.”

“‘Bout what?” He asked while walking in, taking a seat in the chair on the other side and leaning over to read what Hitoka had down. “Toka, honey, I’d said I’d get the caterers.”

“You can’t be a caterer, Osamu. It’s our wedding.”

“I know that,” he frowned. “I wasn’t gonna put me down.” Osamu reached over and lightly grabbed her chin, lifting it so she would make eye contact with him. He lowered his voice, softening it, something he’d only do when talking to her. “Hey, I got it, ‘kay? If ya wanna stress ‘bout somethin’, ya should figure out whatcha want me to make ya fer dinner.”

Hitoka smiled at him softly. “I have to do _something_.”

“How ‘bout ya worry about themes?” He offered, picking up a design catalog they had picked out for wedding themes. “Howeva ya want it to look, I’ll love it. Pick whateva ya want.” She giggled quietly to herself and took the magazine from Osamu.

“You’re sure?” She asked.

“Hey,” Osamu said with a small chuckle, “I just wanna marry ya. We could get married in a _desert_ ‘n I’d be happy.”

“You’re sweet,” Hitoka said, “but I think you need to go be sweet to the _desserts_ you’re making though.”

“Shit,” he cursed under his breath and stood up. “Forgot.”

“Hurry up and check on them,” she said with a smile and a small hum. “I’m sure Hana wants to try your experiment.”

“‘M sure he does too,” Osamu mumbled as he started to make his way back into the kitchen. He slipped from the room, and Hitoka looked down at the magazine Osamu had handed her. Even though he had told her that she could pick whatever _she_ wanted, Hitoka kept her fiancé’s likes in mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Twitter @inuokkotsu
> 
> This fic is so close to being done ahHH. I just wanted to say thank you for all the comments on it so far!!


	28. Disgustingly sweet

**MAR. 19**

There was something about the cabinets in the kitchen that Shouyou absolutely hated. It was probably how the fact that the handles for the doors were in the center of the cabinet doors. Terrible design. It wasn’t that he couldn’t reach them. He could; he wasn’t the size of a toddler. It was just embarrassing with the fact that Shouyou had to reach a little.

It seemed Tobio had taken a note of it even, and he chuckled behind a magazine he looked through as he sat at the table. Shouyou let out a huff and looked over at him, crossing his arms. “You got something to say, Kageyama?”

“You’re short."

“Thanks,” Shouyou grumbled. “I wasn’t aware of that.”

“Really?” Tobio asked with a small hint of a smirk. “Even while walking around with _literally anyone else_?”

“You guys aren’t _that_ much taller than I am,” Shouyou said as he rolled his eyes and opened the cupboard. He pulled down a clean cup and closed the cupboard. “Lay off.”

“Okay, shorty.”

“Fine, you’re paying for _all_ of dinner tonight,” Shouyou muttered. He poured a fresh cup of coffee and took a seat at the table. “You’ve taught me about guns, maybe I can teach you about something.”

Tobio scoffed. “Like, what?”

Shouyou grinned. “You ever gotten dinner for free?”

“You’re joking,” Tobio said as he lowered the book. “You haven’t actually―” he paused.

“I have,” Shouyou said. 

“The whole meal?”

“Appetizers and all.” Tobio squinted. Shouyou scoffed. “What? You don’t believe me?”

“No.”

“Then come to dinner with me tonight,” Shouyou hummed. “If I can’t pull it off, I’ll pay for both of our dinners. If I can, you pay for yours that night, obviously, and whoever pays for mine will pay for mine, and then you take me out again and pay for both of us then.”

“Why can’t you just get a deal on both of ours?” Tobio deadpanned.

“Men don’t work like that,” Shouyou scoffed. “At least, rich men don’t.” The ginger chuckled into his coffee glass. “I can tell you’ve never been in an environment surrounded by horny, old, grabby, rich men.”

“No,” Tobio replied with, a bored look on his face. 

Shouyou set his glass down on the counter. He shrugged. “It’s annoying, but at the same time, amusing with the power you can have.” Shouyou stood up and stretched, picking up his coffee after he finished reaching his arms above his head. “Oh, but of course, you might struggle to do it,” he said as he started to back toward the door. “You see, those gross men also like small targets. Since you’re tall and not small, like me, you are, in fact, just competition to get the small, _adorable_ person like me,” Shouyou said with a grin as he reached for the door handle. “Anyway, be ready by eight to leave, ‘kay? I’m kind of hungry already.”

Tobio watched Shouyou leave and bit his lip. He couldn’t help but think Shouyou was right. Well, of course, he was right. Tobio had never been in the position to be _‘surrounded by horny, old, grabby, rich men’,_ and Tobio wouldn’t be a target of said men. Though what Tobio was really hung up on is the fact that he would be seen as _‘competition’_ for who would win Shouyou’s attention.

He wasn’t even playing, but Tobio wanted to win.

* * *

As he tended to do, Keiji drove instead of Koutarou. The owl sat in the passenger seat staring out the window as he leaned back in the seat. He was clearly in deep thought, Keiji just wasn’t sure of what it was. It was weird that he was being quiet, and honestly, it was a little concerning. The two were on the way back to the office. It was around eleven AM, and they had just gotten done doing an overnight job of two people who requested a bodyguard service. Nothing had gotten too crazy. Koutarou was able to break up a near fight but that was all.

Keiji pulled into the parking lot of the building and stepped out of the car, Koutarou followed suit after him. He started to head into the building already, and Keiji quickly locked the door before rushing to follow him. “Hey,” Keiji called out. He grabbed the other’s sleeve, pulling them to a stop. They hadn’t even made it that far from the car. Keiji could take three steps back and bump into it. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Koutarou muttered. “It’s nothing.”

“You’re lying to me,” Keiji deadpanned. He sighed and reached out to the other, looking up into the yellow eyes as he held his face in his hands. His eyes looked sad, maybe something of self-regret or pity. “Bokuto,” Keiji said softly.

“Come on, Akaashi,” Koutarou said quietly. “Don’t let your smile drop like that.”

“Then tell me what’s wrong.”

Koutarou sighed. “Before I was too focused on getting better that I hadn’t thought about all the effort that you guys took to rescue me,” he quickly said in a quiet voice, but weeks and weeks ― was it almost a month? ― of being with Koutarou, Keiji could translate the jumbled words. 

“Seriously? That’s it?" He asked. Koutarou nodded. Keiji laughed softly. He reached forward, pressing a soft, unexpected kiss to the other’s lips. The owl’s eyes had shot open, a sudden surprise when he felt the soft lips pressed against his own. 

Keiji’s lips were cold but sweet, tasting of a peppermint ― probably the peppermint he slipped into his coffee when he thought no one was looking. Regardless, Koutarou kissed back, Keiji’s touch on his cheeks made him feel more comfortable as his hands found the other’s waist, thumb slow as they moved back and forth on the fabric over his hips. Keiji wrapped around Koutarou’s neck, his body moving a little closer. Koutarou’s lips felt so right despite being incredibly chapped. They pulled away, except their touches stayed the same, Keiji’s arms wrapped around his neck, Koutarou hands placed on Keiji’s waist.

“It’s alright,” Keiji whispered. “No one got hurt during it ― well, Atsumu and Hanamaki maybe, but they’re okay now.”

“Next question?” Koutarou asked quietly, and Keiji nodded. “Are we dating now?”

Keiji laughed. “What do you want?”

“I was hoping a ‘ _yes’_ maybe?”

“Then,” Keiji began with a smile, “yes.”

“Yes?” Koutarou asked, a smile stretching on his face.

“Yes.”

Koutarou grinned, wider if he could, and he cupped Keiji’s face, kissing him again.

* * *

The knife pro and the bomber walked down the hallway to the armory, the taller one whistling in a way that slightly annoyed the other but not enough to tell him to shut up. When the two reached the armory, he ceased the noises and went to open the door. He jiggled the handle and frowned.

“Locked,” Tetsurou mumbled quietly.

“Move aside,” Morisuke said as he put a hand to Tetsurou’s arm, pushing him to the side.

“What? Do you have a key?”

“No,” Morisuke said as he pulled out his wallet. He grabbed out two metal prongs and leaned down near the handle. “But I’m not an idiot.”

Tetsurou watched as he picked the lock ― in pure amazement. Someone had taught him how to pick locks, sure, but that didn’t mean that he remembered how to do it or was good at it. The only person out of their group that was good at that stuff was probably Kiyoomi; Koutarou and Issei tended to use brute force to get into rooms; Shouyou would bribe his way past; if Tetsurou couldn't get in somewhere, he’d usually just leave and give up.

Morisuke got the door open and stood back up, slipping the tools back in his wallet. He looked at Tetsurou as he slipped his wallet in his back pocket and waved for him to enter the room. The knife pro popped back to reality with a slight _‘oh_ ’ in realization and stepped in the room, Morisuke following after him. Tetsurou flipped on the light switch and headed to the section where Hitoka had said she’d set up his weaponry. It was all where he wanted it to be, set up and beautiful in the lights of the showcase, and he couldn’t help but drool over it at first. That was until Morisuke came up behind him and poked him in the back, his finger digging into his spine and causing him to arch his back a little.

“Ah!” Tetsurou sucked in through his teeth. “Why’d that hurt so bad?” He whined.

“Because,” Morisuke said, “I know weak points.” He backed up and crossed his arms. “Come on. Show me what you wanted to show me.”

“Why do you seem in a rush?” Tetsurou mumbled as he reached for the keypad. There was a code that Hitoka had given him ― _‘4339’_ ― to unlock his cage of knives. It unlocked the door with a small hiss to tell them the glass had lifted, and he was able to slide open the showcase doors. 

“Hitoka might come back.”

“Is she that scary?” Tetsurou asked with a smirk as he grabbed out one of the knives. He turned to Morisuke, holding the knife at the handle with one hand pinched the tip of the blade. 

“Yes,” Morisuke replied, and he stared at the knife as well. His eyes scanned the shiny blade. He bit his lip as he noticed just how sharp it was. The metal really was beautiful, a gorgeous glimmer to the reflective material as the lights shined on it. “Mhm,” Morisuke hummed while staring.

“Beautiful?” Tetsurou asked, grinning wide.

“If you can call an object beautiful, sure.”

“Listen,” Tetsurou hissed, “I bet you call your bombs beautiful.”

Morisuke cracked a smile as he watched Tetsurou put the knife back and reach for another one. “Yeah, I guess you have a point there.” Tetsurou handed him a knife, fingers holding the blade with a pinch as the sharp end pointed to the ground, handle pointing up. “What?”

“Grab it.”

“Seriously?”

“I trust you won’t stab me,” Tetsurou said with a shrug. “Also, I think I have faster reflexes than you.”

“Okay,” Morisuke began to say as he softly grabbed the knife, scared that if he grabbed it too quickly then he’d cut the other, “that’s incorrect.”

“Go ahead and try then,” Tetsurou said as he took a step back, a grin on his face as he opened his arms up as a free target. He wriggled his eyebrows a bit, something that pissed Morisuke off from just how cocky he was acting. Morisuke gripped the blade, staring down at it. The handle was nice craftsmanship. It felt comfortable in his hand. A perfect fit for Morisuke. It was odd how it seemed like it was made specifically for the bomber's use. Tetsurou’s hands were a lot bigger than Morisuke’s were yet the knife fit so snugly that Morisuke knew he could twirl the knife between his fingers as if it were a pencil. 

He looked up at Tetsurou who still stood like a scarecrow, ready for any attack. _‘Did he hand me this knife on purpose?’_ Morisuke took a deep breath as he let his fingers dribble on the handle. _‘That’s his fault then.’_

Morisuke didn’t let himself inhale before he went in with an attack hoping that he’d be able to catch Tetsurou off guard. It seemed to only work for a mere second before Tetsurou grabbed Morisuke’s wrist as it darted at his side. He felt Tetsurou’s fingers wrap around his wrist and tug his arm forward. The taller assassin’s other arm wrapped around Morisuke’s free one and pulled his back into his chest. Morisuke could feel his hot breath beating down on the back of his neck.

Tetsurou pressed his thumb into Morisuke’s wrist, enough to make his fingers twitch and weaken to where the knife fell from his grasp and clattered on the floor in front of them. It rang in Morisuke’s ear, and he listened to the high noise, though right after it was followed by a deep hum. Tetsurou next to his ear, chuckling lowly. It pissed Morisuke off a little bit. He wanted to jab back his elbow in his gut but the grip the other had on his arm held it in place.

“You were saying?” Tetsurou asked.

“Shut up. Let go of me.”

“I don’t know. I’m kind of having fun.”

“Kuroo―”

“How come you’ve won so many practice matches yet you can’t fight hand to hand?”

“It’s called―” Morisuke tried to shift the grip, Tetsurou’s thumb shifted deeper into the skin of his arm. “Having a technique and a _plan_ ― would you _let_ go?”

“Fine, fine,” Tetsurou said with a laugh as he let go of Morisuke. The shorter one slipped from his grasp, stepping forward and putting his hand over where Tetsurou had grabbed him. “Did I hurt you?”

“No, shut up, would you?” Morisuke quickly mumbled under his breath. He watched as Tetsurou picked up the knife from the ground. “How come that knife seemed―” Morisuke took a deep breath, trying to find a word that wouldn’t directly compliment the other. He didn’t want to boost his confidence more than he already just (accidentally) did. Though he failed, and he released a deep sigh and said, “perfect?”

“I picked a knife that would suit you,” Tetsurou said with a shrug as he grabbed the knife he had first grabbed. He held them out next to each other, and the size difference was recognizable. The style of the handle differed as well, there was more of a curve to the smaller one that Morisuke was handed.

“Suit me?” Morisuke asked.

Tetsurou nodded. “I watched the way that you worked with the bombs, noticed how your wrists move,” Tetsurou began to say, and he sheathed the bigger knife on his belt, stepping forward and softly grabbing Morisuke’s hand. He stretched out the other’s palm, Morisuke let his hand go limp in Tetsurou’s care. The pro knifeman drew his pointer finger on the lines of Morisuke’s hand, lightly sketching the skin. His focus was directed completely toward the trickster’s hand, a soft, lifted expression now on his face as he studied the hand. “I took in how soft your grip on things were, how you held certain objects, how you moved certain objects, what seemed to strain, what didn’t.”

“You―” Morisuke quietly stuttered. “You paid attention _that_ closely?”

“Mhm,” Tetsurou nodded, and he let Morisuke’s hand go. The touch lingered on the other’s skin for a bit, a tingling feeling as he let his hand drop back to his side. Tetsurou put the knives back and closed the glass, punching in the passcode on the lock to secure the case. “Come on. You said Hitoka gets mad at people here without her?”

Morisuke nodded.

“Then,” Tetsurou said, placing a hand on Morisuke’s back as he pushed him forward, “we should get out of here.”

* * *

The dates stopped being awkward a few outings ago. Both of them seemed to have fallen into the comfort that was being around each other easily. Tooru sat at the back table of the coffee shop, the same table they had chosen every single time they came here. By this point, when the barista catches sight of them before they even enter, she already begins to prepare their drinks before they give her the word. Their drinks had been sitting at the table by the time they reached it, and they thanked the barista with a smile and a wave before diving into their own personal conversations.

Tooru stirred his drink with the straw, face sat in his palm as his elbow rested on the table. 

“What?” Hajime asked.

“Huh?”

“You look in thought.”

Tooru frowned. “Well, I am thinking.”

“About what?” The taller one let out a sigh and leaned back in his chair, the straw dropping from his hand as he wrapped his hand around the cup. His bad leg had been stretched out, almost invading into the aisle, his other one was bent normally underneath the table. It hurt every once and a while. Whenever he got a bad feeling he swore he felt an aching pain; each time it gave his eye a little twitch. 

“Why me?” He mumbled quietly.

“Pretty vague of a question,” Hajime said as he drummed his fingers on the side of his glass. “Can’t tell if you’re talking about your knee or us.”

“ _Us_ ,” Tooru confirmed. _‘Though why me for my fucking knee would be a good question, wouldn’t it? If only Iwa could answer that.’_

Hajime shrugged. “I did think the comment you made on me when we first met was funny.” 

Tooru sharply inhaled through his nose, and he slowly breathed out. He raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t I say _‘fuck me’_?” Tooru asked.

“Yes.” Tooru groaned and let his head hit back on the chair behind him. “It was funny,” Hajime said again with a chuckle. 

“You didn’t laugh.”

“I keep to myself.”

“Whatever, I’m embarrassing, Iwa.”

“That’s true," Hajime admitted, and Tooru frowned. “But I like it.”

“No, you don’t. Shut up,” Tooru quickly said. He looked away, though his eyes found the green ones from across the table only seconds after. “Do you really?” He asked softly, perking up in his seat a little. Hajime nodded, a smile stretching on his face. It was so soft, so handsome that Tooru just wanted to hold his face in his hands. He hadn’t been lying to himself at all ― when he first saw Hajime, he really did think he was _the_ hottest man to walk the planet. “Can you kiss me again? That was awesome,” Tooru quietly mumbled under his breath. The sniper let a chuckle slip his lips. He leaned forward, and Tooru leaned forward as well, catching the other’s lips with his.

His lips were soft as Tooru was expecting and from what he remembered from the first time Hajime had kissed him. They tasted of bitter coffee from the drink he was sipping on moments before, and the warmth that transferred from the glass to his mouth heated the kiss to a softening feeling that Tooru didn’t know could even change in a kiss. It smoothened their motions as if the warmth melted their lips together and molded them for a perfect fit.

They pulled away, Tooru falling back into his seat was a heated feeling in the back of his neck. “I like that,” he whispered quietly, and Hajime heard, enough to make him laugh and lift his cup to his lips. “We should do a lot more of―” Tooru swallowed, “ _that_.”

“Yeah?” Hajime asked into the glass, an amused, smug expression sat on his face.

“Yeah,” Tooru breathed out. “Yeah, for sure.”

* * *

“Are you ready?” 

“Are _you_ ready?”

Shouyou laughed. He nodded, stretching as he stepped out of the car. “Yup. Come on.”

  
  


Tobio and Shouyou got a table near the kitchen which was kind of nice. They got to smell the food as it left the doors, though they also had to deal with the noise of it. Shouyou didn’t seem too bothered by it, especially as he sipped on his drink with a grin on his face.

“So,” Tobio began, “how are you going to get a free meal?”

“Oh, Kageyama,” Shouyou chuckled, “watch and learn.”

Shouyou stood up from the table and headed to the bar. He walked over, sitting down next to a man as he slapped his hand on the counter to grab the bartender’s attention. Purposely, he ordered the same drink the man had, and when the bartender gave him his drink, he winked at the guy next to him. He started talking to him easily, clearly cracking up a joke about having the same drink. It was obvious flirting between the two, and Tobio dug his nails into his slacks. Something about it was kind of hard to watch as he watched the man reach over and tuck some hair behind Shouyou’s ear causing the assassin to let out a fake giggled as if it tickled him.

All of this just so that Tobio would pay for dinner. Shouyou was obviously going to win.

  
  


Tobio stood up from his seat and made his way across the restaurant. He grabbed Shouyou’s arm, and the ginger looked over at him. 

“Huh? Kageyama?”

“Come on, you’ve made your point.”

“I―I have?” Shouyou mumbled as Tobio pulled him from the chair. “I guess I have. Excuse me!” Shouyou politely said to the guy before he was officially yanked from his seat and back to their table. “Kageyama, what’s―”

“Nothing. Just shut up, and I’ll pay.”

“You didn’t even lose yet,” Shouyou said as he sat back down in his chair. Tobio sat across from him, lifting the menu to hide his face behind it. “Kageyama?”

“Shut up and look for what you want.”

Shouyou felt himself smiling, and he bit his lip, lifting his menu. “Alright, alright.”

* * *

The armorer flipped off the light switch in the hallway, carrying a glass of water as she made her way down while she stayed careful not to trip on the small cat that roamed around the house. She pushed open the bedroom door the rest of the way and smiled at the man sitting on the bed. He had his back against the headrest as he stared down at a magazine in his lap. 

Hitoka softly shut the door behind her and made her way to her side of the bed, setting the glass of water down before she crawled into the bed next to her fiance. “What are you doing?” She asked, cuddling up closer to him, wrapping her arm around his as she tried to peek over at what he was specifically looking at.

“Lookin’ at things fer the weddin’,” Osamu muttered. He sighed and lifted the magazine, tossing it down on his nightstand before he let himself sink down in the bed. The twin laid on his back, staring up at the ceiling with wide eyes. It was obvious something was bothering him, and if anyone could tell, it was Hitoka.

“It’s Atsumu, isn’t it?” She softly asked.

“A little.”

“Is it because of Sakusa?”

Osamu scoffed. “‘M glad Sakusa with him.” Hitoka laid down next to him, his arms behind his head, and she rested her cheek on them for a pillow. She reached over, hand planted on his chest over his shirt, fingers rubbing soft circles. “Just―” he sighed, tilting his head to the side to look at Hitoka. She looked at him with a soft expression, one that told him she was there and listening. It always made him feel better about opening up, that beautiful look in her eyes always won him over. “I never wanted ‘Tsumu to get revenge in the first place.”

“I know,” she whispered.

“I don’t have a problem with him doin’ it, ‘specially if it’ll make him feel better ‘bout―” he sighed, “everythin’.” He turned his head back to look at the ceiling. “Just worried somethin' might set him off. He can only keep his anger issues calm fer so long.”

“It’ll be okay,” Hitoka said, and Osamu looked back at her. He couldn’t help but smile.

“Yah, yer right,” he muttered.

“He’ll get it done, and then he’ll be back, and you won’t have to miss him anymore because he’ll be back _every day._ ”

Osamu scoffed. “I don’t miss ‘im.”

“You miss him.”

“I don’t.”

“Osamu.”

“Hitoka.”

“ _Osamu_.”

“ _Beautiful_.”

Hitoka flushed red, no matter how many times she had heard it, she still reacted the same way. She lifted her hand and slapped him on the chest causing a laugh out of the twin. He reached over tucking her hair behind her ear before he moved in and kissed her sweetly. “Are you done being disgustingly sweet?” Hitoka muttered once he pulled away, and he fell back on the pillow.

“Think so.”

“Good,” she said, laying back down. “Now go to sleep.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Twitter @inuokkotsu


	29. An errand with a few complications

**MAR. 23**

Scratching his face, Osamu looked in one of the large fridges in the kitchen. There was a meeting today, one that Keishin had planned for a while where other organizations were coming to discuss members and statistics. It was a fairly big deal ― that was if anyone was worried about it. It would tell Keishin whether or not he’d have to fire some people due to low stats, or if someone should transfer away, or if he would have to transfer someone here. Everyone was doing their jobs, so no one was particularly worried. If anything, they'd get more people.

Osamu was to prepare food for the meeting. A dinner meeting. They were big and a bit stressful, but that didn’t mean Osamu didn’t like it when he got the chance to work on them. It showed his talent to the other, larger corporations, and it gave him the spotlight for an evening ― the Atsumu in him really liked the spotlight. 

If Osamu had the chance from a higher-up, he probably wouldn’t take it ― unless Atsumu had also gotten an offer and Hitoka could follow along with him. He wouldn’t leave them behind, not in a million years.

Though Osamu wouldn’t even _get_ that opportunity if he couldn’t make this dish, and the problem wasn’t him, it was the ingredients. 

“Are ya fuckin’ kiddin’ me?” Osamu muttered under his breath as he searched through all the fridges. He was missing a few things; he had a few things. Osamu was slightly panicking.

The twin left the kitchen still with his apron on and searched the hallways. He peered around the corners looking for somebody that he could quickly snag. There was always Hitoka who was more than happy to do a quick run to the store for Osamu, but he didn’t want to bother her more than she was already crammed with wedding planning. Atsumu was another option. If only his twin were at the building and not practically a day's drive away getting some revenge that Osamu didn’t even think was worth it.

There was someone in the hallway, thank god, and he reached out and grabbed his arm, pulling him to the side so they weren’t in the way of anyone else having to get by. “I can trust ya, yah?” He asked.

“Osamu?” Shouyou asked, and he laughed. “Yeah, of course.” The chef realized his grip on the other’s arms, and he loosened it, letting go of Shouyou. He trusted enough that he wouldn’t run off and that he didn’t scare him away. “What’s up?” Shouyou asked.

“Could ya run to the store fer me?”

“Huh?” Shouyou’s face was light, soft, and Osamu was surprised that he hadn’t ever had a conversation with him before. He seemed easy-going enough and conversation with him flowed easily. “Yeah, sure. If you need me to.” Shouyou shrugged his shoulders. “I’m not doing anything right now anyway.”

“Perfect,” Osamu muttered. He handed Shouyou a list he had drafted up in his pocket. The ginger stared down at it, reading over it, mumbling the ingredients under his breath before he folded it up and placed it in his own pocket. “Good? Ya know everythin’ on it?”

Shouyou nodded. “Yup! I’m sure if I get confused or something I can ask a store worker, too.”

“Yah,” Osamu said. He thought of how the grocery store workers knew Osamu well and his preference for brands simply from how often he’d go there. “Yah, they should be able to help ya if ya need it.”

“Alright! I’ll do it then!” Shouyou nodded, a smile on his face. It gave Osamu reassurance. He felt like he really found the right person roaming the hallways to do his bidding. “Do I have a time limit you need this by?”

“No later than eight?”

Shouyou gave him a thumbs up and started backing up. “Alright! See you, Osamu! I’ll get on it.”

“Thanks,” Osamu mumbled as he watched Shouyou disappear down the hallway. He let out a sigh of relief as he began to make his way back to the kitchen. _‘Time to do what I can.’_

* * *

Tetsurou had a small routine that he had on the down-low. He’d get up, get ready, head to work, drop his things off at his office like his coat, and then head to the room where one Yaku Morisuke would always be held up. He didn’t bother knocking on the door. A few weeks straight of heading there and all the people working in that section expected Tetsurou to show up at any time really. No heads even turned to look at him as he walked in the room and scanned for the familiar co-worker.

“Kuroo, hey,” someone had said, and Tetsurou looked over. Yuu walked over to him, in his hands was a box made of scrap metal that was clearly welded together. “Yaku isn’t here yet.”

“I see,” Tetsurou muttered.

“You guys are pretty close, huh?” Yuu asked with a grin, and he leaned back on one of the tables. He began to juggle the box between his hands, tossing it back and forth, left hand to the right. 

“Yeah, I guess,” Tetsurou muttered with a shrug.

“Really, _really_ close.”

“Nishinoya.”

“Kuroo.”

“What are you trying to say?”

“I think it’s pretty obvious what I’m trying to say,” Yuu said as he stopped tossing around the box and held it with both hands. He looked down at it, the rough pads of his thumbs rubbed back and forth on the scratchy experiment piece. “He talks about you more than you know, you know?”

“Really?” Tetsurou asked with a smirk.

“Mhm,” Yuu nodded. “He told us about yesterday, too.”

“What did he say?”

“Something about how whatever happened made him all red in the face,” Yuu shrugged and said it so simply. He probably didn’t know that he just basically told Tetsurou, _‘Yaku got really flustered when you were standing really close.’_ “Like, _really_ red. The guy flushed just talking about it.” Yuu shrugged. 

“Yaku isn’t gonna like you giving up his secrets like that,” Shinji commented from his desk, and the other trapmaker didn’t bother to look up from his current project. He had a foot pulled up under him, hunched over his lap a little as he stuck his tongue out and worked on a similar box to the one Yuu had in his hands.

“He’ll live,” Yuu threw back, and he snickered looking back at Tetsurou. “Seriously though, make _some_ move.”

“Make a move?” Tetsurou laughed. “Yeah, sure, with someone as stubborn as him.”

“I guess you’re right with that,” Yuu muttered, but he perked up and slapped a hand on Tetsurou’s shoulder. “You got it though, bro!” Tetsurou was struck in silence when Yuu walked away. He stared down at the floor, losing himself in his thoughts. 

Morisuke _talked_ about him, Morisuke got flustered because of him, Tetsurou was supposed to ' _make a move.’_ It made Tetsurou think, and it made Tetsurou think for a while.

* * *

On his way out of the office with the list in his pocket, Shouyou ran into someone. He was almost knocked to the floor if he didn’t catch himself by grabbing the wall. Shouyou looked to the living pillar in front of him, and he smiled when he made eye contact.

“Kageyama! Hey, wait, what are you doing right now?”

“Right now?” Tobio raised an eyebrow. “Running into short people.”

Shouyou punched him in the shoulder. “You’re so funny.” He sighed and grabbed onto Tobio’s sleeve, beginning to drag him with him toward the exit of the building. “Come with me.”

“What?” Tobio asked, but he didn’t pull back on the grip the other had on him. Shouyou noticed he wasn’t fighting back, too, and he released his hold on him, letting Tobio walk on his own. The gunman followed, catching up to walk next to Shouyou as they made their way out of the front doors. “Where?”

“The store.”

“Why?”

“Osamu needs someone to get stuff for him,” Shouyou said with a shrug, and he pulled out his car keys. He looked between them and Tobio as they made their way to his car. “Wanna drive?”

Tobio sighed. “No, you drive.”

  
  


They parked along the sidewalk and got out of the car, both of them got out without wasting a second. After Shouyou locked the car once all the doors were shut, the two began to make their way down the sidewalk in the direction of the store. It was a small walk past a few other markets.

Shouyou pulled the list of ingredients the twin had handed to him in the hallway out of his pocket. He stared down at it as he mindlessly began to walk to the store, walking slower than a baby trying to take their first steps. There was a hand on his back, pushing him forward to walk a bit faster into the store. He looked over his shoulder for a glance, Tobio had his hand planted flat on his back as he guided him through the doors of the grocery store. Shouyou looked back to the list. He trusted that Tobio wouldn’t run him into a wall on purpose or anything. 

With his other hand, Tobio grabbed a basket on their way through the entrance, and the two were ready to start doing whatever it was that Tobio was dragged along with doing. Soon enough, Shouyou stopped looking down at the list and actually began wandering around the store. Tobio carried the basket as he watched Shouyou jump from aisle to aisle, telling Tobio to walk faster.

“I’m coming, dumbass,” Tobio muttered under his breath, but he couldn’t help but smile, watching the shorter one seemingly enjoy the last-minute shopping rush they had to do. He stood as Shouyou walked down an aisle, scanning up and down the shelves with a concentrated expression as he tried to find whatever he was looking for. There was a shine in his eyes, maybe it was due to the bright lights of the market, but that didn’t matter to Tobio. There was still a flip in his stomach when the brown eyes grew bigger as Shouyou laughed to himself and reached to grab what was on the shelf in front of him. 

The shorter one made his way over to _‘the basket holder’_ and placed the food in the bin hung on Tobio’s arm. “What?” Shouyou asked. “Why are you staring at me like that?”

“Nothing, no reason,” Tobio quickly said, and he looked away, anything to stop him from looking back into Shouyou’s eyes. 

_‘God. I would’ve ― I don’t know, kissed him or something.’_ Tobio wanted to punch himself for thinking that, but it would definitely look strange if he hit himself in the middle of the supermarket, so he thought against it. Shouyou was about to say something, his mouth was already opening to make a comment about Tobio’s behavior, but a cry interrupted him, and they both turned their heads over. 

A child sat on the ground of the market a few feet from them, hiccup crying and shaking as they wrapped their arms around themselves. Tears streamed down their face despite them doing a very good job of keeping quiet, and they buried their palms into their eyes, covering their face with their hands as best as they could.

“Hey,” Shouyou said in a quiet voice as he leaned toward Tobio. The gunman felt his body heat up, the feeling of Shouyou pressed against his side to gather his attention drew a redness to the tips of his ears. “Remember a few nights ago?”

“On the date?” Tobio asked as he looked to Shouyou. The ginger’s face flushed like his hair, maybe a bit darker on the red aspect, but his face grew hot. 

“Y-yeah,” he stuttered. They had never officialized it was a date, though it was obvious that it was what it was and had turned into by the end of the night. “That. You know how I walked up to that guy and just struck up a conversation?” Shouyou asked, and Tobio nodded. “There’s more to my job than just manipulating someone.”

“Like what?”

“Like knowing how to talk to other people.” Shouyou pointed his head in the direction of the lost, parent-less child still sitting on the floor of the store. “In this case, a small, lost child and helping them back to their guardians.” Shouyou grabbed ahold of Tobio’s free hand and began to pull him in the direction of the child. “Come on, I’ll show you.” Tobio let Shouyou take his hand, of course, he did. He liked the feeling of Shouyou’s soft hand fit with his. 

  
  


Shouyou had let go of Tobio’s hand and kneeled down next to the child. He put a smile on his face, softening his expression. “Hey,” he gently said, and the kid’s hiccups ceased as he looked up from behind his hands to look at Shouyou. “Are you alright?”

_‘She’s crying in the middle of the store. She’s clearly not alright.’_ Tobio thought, and he thought it was a stupid question to ask, but the kid didn’t think anything of it. Of course, they didn’t. It was a small child.

“I-I―” The kid stuttered, and Shouyou patiently waited. “I lost my mom,” she finally muttered out.

“That’s alright, we’ll help you,” Shouyou said with a smile. “I’m Hinata Shouyou!” He introduced himself. “This big, tall, scary-looking guy behind me is actually a big teddy bear! Don’t be afraid of him, I promise.” Tobio frowned at the _‘teddy bear’_ comment, but when he made eye contact with the glossy eyes of the little girl, he tried his best to soften his face as Shouyou had done. It seemed to work enough. She didn’t look as scared anymore as she looked back to Shouyou. “Your name?”

“Yuma.”

“Yuma?” Shouyou asked again, and she nodded her head. There was a soft smile that was slowly shifting on her face. The assassin stood up and held out a hand. “Yuma is a cute name!” He said. “Come on! Let’s go find your mom now, yeah?” Yuma nodded again, and she accepted Shouyou’s hand.

Tobio stayed close by as he watched Shouyou walk with the girl’s hand in his up to one of the registers. He spoke with the lady working there, and she spoke into the microphone saying, _‘There’s one Yuma waiting up at the front!’_ in a cheery tone as to not freak out the child. It took only a few minutes for a mother to come running up, scared and choking on tears as she picked up her daughter in her arms. She gave multiple thanks to Shouyou _(‘Thank you! Thank you so much!’)._ Shouyou was humble the whole time, saying how it wasn’t a big deal and that anyone would’ve done it ― though clearly not since many people walked past the crying child without saying a word.

Shouyou got back to Tobio with a satisfied smile on his face. “So,” he began, “did you learn anything?”

“I learned that you have a lot of patience.”

Shouyou laughed, and he nodded. He tugged on Tobio’s arm so that they could ring up their items and leave. If they continued to slack off at this rate, Shouyou wouldn’t get Osamu his list on time. “Yeah, I guess I do, huh? Hurry up now. Osamu is probably waiting.”

* * *

Takahiro spun around in the chair. It only lasted a few minutes before he kicked over the office trash can. Knocking it over, it caused crumpled papers to spill out. Takahiro stopped the chair, staring down at the pile of trash now on the floor of Tooru’s office.

“Oops,” Takahiro said, and he chuckled as he slowly stood up from the chair. He backed up from the desk slowly, moving along the wall to the couches where Morisuke and Keiji sat as he kept his eyes on Tooru from across the room. The analyzer had begun to glare at him the second he had knocked it over. “That’s crazy how gravity works,” Takahiro added.

“Are you really not going to pick it up?” Tooru glared.

“No,” Takahiro said as he found a seat on the couch. “I’m not helping you because a natural disaster happened.”

“It wasn’t a natural disaster, you knocked it over.”

“I believe that I am a work of God,” Takahiro said as he held up a finger, “therefore, naturally occurring.” Tooru groaned and headed to the spilled trash, leaning over to pick it up. “Anyway, go on with your story or whatever it was.”

“Yeah, are you official yet, or are you still a loser?” Morisuke asked, not looking up from his phone. 

“Says you.”

Morisuke pointed the screen down. “What the fuck are you implying, you self-absorbed―”

“Hey, hey,” Keiji interrupted. “Oikawa is annoying but I want to know what he has to say.” Tooru gasped dramatically and stood up straight, the trashcan in his hand as he looked over to the couch filled with his _‘friends’_. “You can bully him afterward.”

“Fine,” Morisuke muttered in agreement.

“I don’t agree to these terms.”

“We didn’t ask,” Takahiro said. He flicked his wrist. “Continue, carry on, story ― do tell.”

Tooru sighed as he finished picking up the rest of the trash, setting the can back up upright and away from any more possible _‘natural disasters’._ He sat down in the chair and messed with the pens sitting in the cup on his desk. “Iwa,” Tooru simply said.

“That’s it?” Morisuke asked. 

“Basically.”

“You called an emergency meeting for three letters, one word, one syllable?” Takahiro asked as he hopped up and draped himself over the back of the couch.

“I never said emergency,” Tooru snapped and looked over to the torturer on the couch. “I said, _‘I’d really, really, really like you guys to come to my office. Pretty please?’._ ”

“And you promised me cream puffs,” Takahiro said as he pointed a finger. “So where the fuck are they?”

“Osamu has them in the fridge.”

“Amazing,” Takahiro said as he hopped up and began to head to the door. “If you won’t mind―”

“Hold on,” Tooru interrupted. Takahiro let a groan slip his lips. He put his back to the door and slid down it, dramatically dragging his hands through his hair as if he was being kept against his own will. “I saw Akaashi and Bokuto kissing in the parking lot―” Tooru quickly finished. “That’s all I’m saying.”

Keiji threw his hands up and sighed as everyone’s eyes went to him. “What do you mean _‘that’s all I’m saying’_? You said all of it. What was the point?”

“To sell you down the river.”

“I wasn’t the one who knocked over your trash can,” Keiji muttered.

“Are you guys like a thing now?” Tooru asked instead.

“‘ _A thing’_?” Keiji raised an eyebrow at Tooru. The analyzer leaned on the desk a little with a smug ass look on his face. “Are you twelve?”

“At heart, yes,” Tooru replied.

Keiji sighed. He stood from the couch and walked over to Tooru’s desk. “Yes, we are," he said. He peaked over in Tooru’s coffee cup. Empty. Keiji pointed to it. “Refill?” He asked. Tooru was a bit shocked that Keiji had admitted it so easily, but he tried to pass by how sudden it was to him. It would definitely count as the last laugh for Keiji if he knew what he said shut Tooru up.

“Sure. Thanks,” Tooru muttered instead as he handed Keiji the cup. Keiji nodded with a hum and left for the kitchen.

It was silent for a bit until Morisuke decided to speak up. “Bokuto and Akaashi getting together isn’t surprising,” he commented, and Takahiro, still sat in a ball on the floor, nodded in agreement. “They’ve been hip and hip ever since we merged.” He groaned and sunk lower into the couch, a sigh following after as he closed his eyes and let his head rest on the back of the couch. “Hanamaki and Matsukawa aren’t a shocker either.”

“We’re not together.”

“Didn’t you go over to his apartment a few nights ago?” Morisuke asked.

“Irrelevant. I call Oikawa to the stand.”

“This isn’t a courtroom, Makki.”

“And the defendant does _not_ have permission to speak,” Takahiro said as he stood up.

“You _just_ called me to the stand -- and wait, why am I the defendant?”

“Accusing you of being gay,” Takahiro said. “Obviously.” He reached back and grabbed the door handle, twisting it and swinging the door open. “Anyway, I have worky-work things to do.”

“Like what?”

“Like getting out of a conversation I don’t wanna have anymore because I’ve been called out.” Takahiro gave them a wave. “Later, bitches,” and he closed the door. Tooru sighed. Morisuke sprung up from the couch and walked over to Tooru’s desk.

“Hanamaki and Matsukawa?” 

“Yes.”

“Glad we can finally agree on something,” Morisuke said with a smug expression, and he waved Tooru goodbye before he left the office.

Tooru sighed, left alone in the office. _‘Animals. They’re all animals.’_

* * *

Keiji headed to the lounge room to fill up Tooru’s coffee like he said he would. The only reason he really did was so that he could slip out of the conversation. He was pretty good at getting out of talks that he didn’t want to have. Maybe Takahiro did actually teach him some things.

Koutarou was there, Tetsurou was on his laptop doing god knows what, and the owl was leaned over his shoulder, yelling something while pointing at the screen. Keiji just walked in and listened in while pouring himself and Tooru another cup of coffee. He left Tooru’s cup on the counter and walked over with his.

“What are you two doing?” Keiji finally asked.

Koutarou quickly looked over. He stole only a quick glance at Keiji before looking back at the screen. “Huh? Oh, hey, ‘Kaashi! Kuroo got this sweet-ass first-person shooter game on his laptop.” Keiji was a little interested. He walked over to get a look himself. 

On the screen, Tetsurou was playing some shooting game just as Koutarou had explained. Keiji lifted the cup to his lips and took a drink while watching. 

“Hey.” Keiji looked over where there was a quiet whisper in his ear. Koutarou was leaned over, chin moved to lightly rest on Keiji’s shoulder. “Can I kiss you?” Keiji smiled. He reached his hand up, hand holding Koutarou’s cheek, fingertips twitching slightly to move the loose strands that weren’t being held up by his own hair gel. Keiji closed the small gap, and he felt a hand run through its fingers through the back of his hair. He swore every time it sent a jolt of electricity through him. 

“Bo, Bo, look at this!” Tetsurou said, and Koutarou’s lips slipped from Keiji’s but not without a moment of hesitation. There was a soft smile Keiji received from him before Koutarou moved his attention to Tetsurou’s screen.

“What is it?”

“This fucking―” Tetsurou groaned. “I hate this fucking game.”

“That’s because you suck at it.”

“Fuck you.”

“No.” Koutarou turned to Keiji. “You got anything to do after work, ‘Kaashi?” Keiji shook his head. “Perfect!” Koutarou leaned over, and he pressed a quick kiss to Keiji’s cheek. “I’ve got some paperwork I need to do, ‘Kaashi. I’ll drop by your office later.” Keiji nodded, and Koutarou left the room.

  
  


Keiji looked at Tetsurou’s screen, watching the other die in the video game. Tetsurou threw his arms up in defeat and leaned back.

“Huh,” Keiji chuckled.

“What?”

“Nothing,” he said as he turned to leave, grabbing Tooru’s cup of coffee. “Just making sense why you don’t work with guns.”

* * *

Tobio and Shouyou were on their way back from the shopping trip. The gunman carried the bags subconsciously, not even thinking about, _‘Hey, Hinata could at least carry one bag.’_

As he carried the bags, he probably should have been paying attention to where he was going, but he couldn’t help but look over at Shouyou next to him. The assassin hummed a tune under his breath, something that the two had playing on while they were in the car on the way here. He was always smiling, but it wasn’t as if Tobio had seen a problem with that. His smile was beautiful, Tobio wanted to punch himself, again, but they were still in public. 

Tobio felt a hand wrap around his arm. At first, he had thought he had sunken into his thoughts and walked past the car which resulted in Shouyou grabbing for his attention. Though only after a moment of the touch, Tobio could tell it wasn't Shouyou's. It went from soft to harsh to tugging him in another direction in a mere split second before he could even think. He dropped the bags, and Tobio was pulled into the shade, a cold feeling chilling through his bones as he was pulled into the dark of the alleyway.

Shouyou’s attention was turned quickly when he heard the bags drop and felt the presence of the person walking behind him disappear. He looked and watched. A man dragged Tobio down the alleyway, ducking inside the building through a side door.

The manipulator moved quickly, stepping to the doorway of the building to look inside. Tobio was held in a chokehold, holding onto the guy’s arm as a gun was held up to his head. Shouyou froze seeing it, not wanting to push the stranger any further. He wore a mask to hide who he was, and it was clear he was shaking. Shouyou looked around subtly. It was a building that had clearly been abandoned. There weren’t even lightbulbs in the fixtures. A few tables were pushed back in the room, a chair laid on its side on the ground, the floor was cement and dirty.

“Don’t step any closer,” the guy spoke.

“Okay,” Shouyou replied in a calm voice. “I won’t. I just want a reason.”

“He!” He shouted. “He killed my mother.”

Shouyou bit his lip, thinking of something to say. “I’m sure he had a reasoning. Maybe if you let him explain―”

“Explain?” The guy scoffed, a tone of insanity to it. “No.”

“Let him leave,” Tobio suddenly said. “Let Hinata leave, you have no fight with him.”

“Kageyama,” Shouyou softly said. 

“Go. I got this.”

“I’m not leaving you ”

“Stop having a conversation!” The guy interrupted. “ _I’m_ the one with the gun here.”

_‘Why does something always happen whenever any of us go out? We all have too many enemies.’_ Shouyou mentally sighed. He watched the guy. His eyes darting between his hostage and Shouyou. It was clear he was observing him carefully, but as was Shouyou, taking in notes of his body movements and facial expressions. Shouyou raised an eyebrow when he watched how the guy's eyes slowly grew.

“Oh, I get it,” the guy muttered. “You want him to get out of here because you’re in love with him.” Tobio stayed silent, and he refused to make eye contact with anyone at this point. His eyebrows furrowed in anger as his gaze stayed off to the side. “That’s it, isn’t it?” He laughed. “Then I have a better idea.” The guy lifted the gun and pointed it at Shouyou. “I’ll kill him instead.” Normally, he wouldn't but Shouyou froze when the gun was pointed at him. What the guy had said threw him off, and his dependency on people was brought down like the child on the floor of the grocery store. He wanted to just sit down on the ground and stare.

The guy fired the gun, but Tobio was quicker. Normally people at that distance of a gun would twitch and cover their ears at the sound of a firearm that close to their ear, but Tobio was used to it. The guy clearly wasn’t, and he twitched. It made it easy for Tobio to grab him by the wrist and push him back. 

Instead of the gun fatally shooting Shouyou, it only skimmed him, cutting a hole in his shirt and taking some skin off his shoulder. 

Tobio had pushed him back enough to slip from his grasp, but the guy was quick after that. He threw an elbow in Tobio’s face. The gunman felt a warm line of blood slip from his nose, and he cupped a hand over his face as the man ran out of the building in the other direction.

He was about to turn to check on Shouyou when he felt a hand already on his shoulder turning him to face them. Shouyou was quick with a tissue, reaching out to Tobio to pinch his nose. “There,” Shouyou mumbled. “Stay here, don’t sit down. It’s better to stand,” he instructed as he grabbed Tobio’s hand, moving it to his nose so that he could hold the tissue himself. Tobio did as he said, and he watched him leave out of the building. He only took a few minutes before he returned back inside with the groceries Tobio had dropped, and he set them down on a table. “Are you dizzy?” he asked.

“Didn’t you get shot?” Tobio asked.

“It’s fine, I’ll live,” Shouyou shrugged, and he chuckled. “I mean, you have shot me before.”

“Yeah,” Tobio muttered.

The nosebleed only lasted a bit, and Tobio lowered the tissue from his face, staring down at the blood-soaked cloth. He chucked it to the side, the building was already filled with trash, and looked over at Shouyou. The ginger stood near the table by the groceries, observing them and the condition from when Tobio had dropped it.

“Hey, Kageyama,” Shouyou spoke up. He could feel Tobio eyes on him. “Was he right?” Shouyou waited for a response, picking up a can of food and turning it around to check for any damage done to it. A can before had been dented, but Shouyou had only found one of them that were affected by the drop. He was sure that after Osamu heard what happened, he wouldn’t care.

Shouyou still waited for a response from the gunman, and he didn't get one. He stayed silent. Shouyou turned to look instead, but he barely had a chance to breathe when he felt hands on his cheeks and lips on his. His eyes shot open, staring at the closed eyelids of the one who tilted his head up. The ginger’s hands reached up, his hands moved over to the ones held over his cheeks. He felt his body relaxing as he sighed into the kiss, letting his eyes flutter shut.

It was funny. Shouyou, with tons of experience kissing people, kissing Tobio, someone who had probably never kissed anyone before ― and he hadn’t. Though here he was, the inexperienced kisser making the first move on a whim of what to do. His mind had been so clouded that he had been moving toward Shouyou without a second thought.

Shouyou’s fingers wrapped around Tobio’s palms as they pulled away, and he lowered his hands from his face. He laughed a little. “You’re really bad at that,” Shouyou said.

“Shut up,” Tobio muttered.

“Was that your first kiss?” Tobio stayed silent. “It was, wasn’t it?” Shouyou teased with a grin.

“I said shut up.”

“It’s fine,” Shouyou said. He reached up to kiss Tobio again. This time it was quick. “We can work on it.” Tobio’s cheeks grew a slight tint, and Shouyou laughed, letting go of Tobio’s hands. “Come on. We have to get these back to Osamu before it’s too late.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Twitter @inuokkotsu
> 
> Omg this fic is almost done


	30. Pick a Miya

**MAR. 23**

Following behind, Kiyoomi stayed close to Atsumu, walking carefully in order to stay quiet as they made their way through the _almost_ empty office building. Thanks to some torturing Takahiro did (again), information told them that one of the people Atsumu was going after was in here. They worked late nights at an office job they had as a coverup for being an _‘assassin’._

The people Atsumu and Osamu had gotten mixed up with hadn’t really been _‘assassins’._ At least not ones that were officialized and used by corporations and the government on a legalized base. They were more of a mafia gang. Small local police were scared of them even. The group was dirty, sadistic, and twisted which only made Atsumu want to take them out that much more. It brought the twins even more guilt, too, having been associated and _one of them_ at one point in their lives.

  
  


They headed up the stairs slowly and carefully, quiet on their toes. Atsumu slowly grabbed onto the handle, turning it without noise. He opened the door and peered in. His eyes scanned over the cubicles that were lined in the room, and he cringed. He was thankful that he didn’t work in cubicles but had his own office instead. Atsumu's eyes gazed to the back of the room, and he noticed the lit-up cubicle in the back He looked back at Kiyoomi, nodding to him before he turned back and paced his way in. 

Atsumu lowered himself as he walked into the room, staying hidden by the walls that separated desks as he moved through. It was a killing silence as he reached up to the desk, and he popped up over the cubicle, holding and pointing the gun at the shocked office worker typing at the desk.

“Ah!” They shouted, and the man stood up from his desk, hands held up. “Oh,” he said. “ _You_.”

“Me.”

“Boss said that you might be coming.”

“Did he now?” Atsumu asked.

“Of course. You’ve been killing a lot of our guys.”

“Well, it’s deserved,” Atsumu said as he paced around the desk so that a wall didn't separate them. Kiyoomi stood off by the side, watching closely in case he’d have to intervene ― which was the only reason why he came with. He was simply a backup or how Osamu had put it _‘an Atsumu disabler’._

“Why? Your mom wanted to die.”

“Done with this already,” Atsumu grumbled in a low tone, and he fired the gun without a second thought. The guy’s head bounced back as the bullet hit their skull, and his body fell limp, a twitch to his legs after his corpse hit the floor. Atsumu sighed as he lowered the gun. He took a deep breath before he let out a sigh.

“Better?” Kiyoomi asked.

“Mhm. Much,” Atsumu responded, and he turned to Kiyoomi. His eyes widened, and for a second, the twin froze. “Omi, behind ya.”

Kiyoomi quickly turned, holding up his gun, but he hadn’t been quick enough. Another man fired his gun and the other two assassins tried their best to dodge. Both of them couched down in an effort to dodge the bullet. After he fired, the man ran to one of the windows and quickly opened it, taking one quick look back at the two of them before jumping out.

Atsumu bounced back up quickly and ran to the window, putting his hands on the window sill and looking out. He watched as the guy parkoured with skill down the side of the building. “Omi, ‘m goin’―” Atsumu turned back to look at Kiyoomi, though he was still kneeled down. The twin felt his blood run cold, and he stood up straight. He was shot; Kiyoomi was shot. “Omi,” Astumu repeated. Every thought about his enemy running through the parking lot of the office building left Atsumu’s mind. He stepped away from the window and rushed to Kiyoomi’s side. “Hey, Omi ― Kiyoomi.”

Kiyoomi looked up upon hearing his name slip from the twin’s mouth. There was something about him saying his _full_ given name that really grabbed his attention. “Atsumu.”

“Kiyoomi.” Atsumu’s voice sounded scared as he fell to his knees in front of him. “Hey.”

“It’s fine, I’m fine,” Kiyoomi reassured. “You should’ve gone after him,” he groaned. Kiyoomi tried to stand straight, but he fell back, his ass hitting the ground, back leaned against the ones of walls of the cubicles.

“Yer kiddin’, right?” Atsumu noticed Kiyoomi’s hand and how it held onto his side. He stared at the blood that covered his hand and slipped through the cracks of his fingers. “Fuck, fuck. Kiyoomi, fuck,” Atsumu cursed quickly under his breath. 

“I’m fine,” Kiyoomi said again. “Help me up.” Atsumu quickly nodded and stood up. He grabbed Kiyoomi’s other arm and pulled him to his feet, his attention moving back to the wound in his side.

“Kiyoomi.”

“Stop saying my full name. You’re making me feel like it’s a big deal.”

“Ya got shot!”

“I’m fine,” he said for the third time. “I haven’t been shot in a while, I was just taken by surprise.” Atsumu didn’t look sold. There was still a questionable look on his face as he stared down at the hand Kiyoomi held over the wound. 

Kiyoomi sighed, and he reached over with his hand that wasn’t covered in his own blood, brushing some bangs out of Atsumu’s face to get a better look at his full face. “Atsumu,” he said, and the twin peeled his eyes from the other’s stomach to look him in the eyes, “let’s head back to the hotel and just get cleaned up.”

“We need to fix it _now_ , Kiyoomi.”

“No, it’s fine.” Kiyoomi put his hand on his shoulder and began to push him back toward the stairs. “That guy could’ve called for backup, and with one of us injured, fighting isn’t really going to be an option.” Atsumu swallowed back a lump in his throat, but he nodded.

“Yah, okay, fine. Let’s hurry then.”

* * *

Tetsurou sat on the table working on something that he had been trying for so long. Morisuke would give him tips every now and then, but he didn’t treat Tetsurou like an elementary kid by checking on him every second. He’d only correct him if he was about to accidentally explode something. 

“This shit is so fucking hard,” Tetusoru muttered, and he sighed, his arms falling in his lap as he slouched down. He looked over at what Morisuke was doing. The shorter one had his tongue sticking out as he messed a screwdriver in the small box of wires. It had been the same one he had been working on, and if you asked Tetsurou before if there were any changes to it, he would’ve said no. Though after working around it for the last few weeks, Tetsurou could see a clear improvement to what Morisuke was working on. That made him feel a bit better that he had actually learned _something_.

“You’re just kind of stupid,” Morisuke replied. 

“No, you’re just really smart,” Tetsurou muttered. “Seriously, what else are you not telling me?”

“What?” Morisuke lifted his head to look at him. “What do you mean?”

“Like, you told me you got through high school and a year of college before Ukai offered you a job, but what else?”

“Nothing,” Morisuke mumbled. “Nothing that has to do with why I know so much.”

“Still. What else?” Tetsurou continued to ask. Morisuke sighed. “Come on,” Tetsurou egged on. “Please.”

The bomber started working again with another sigh. “Nothing, I just worked hard, and I worked too hard to the point where I ended up accidentally distancing myself from my family.”

“Family? Any siblings?”

Morisuke nodded. “Yeah,” he said softly, and his movements slowed as he worked. “Two younger brothers.”

“You talk anymore?” Tetsurou asked.

Morisuke shook his head. “No,” he answered. “No, I can’t. It’d put them in danger,” he explained. “But I do send them money to help them get by since I know they're college students by now.”

“Does they know you?” Tetsurou asked.

Morisuke looked over at him, and his face turned sad. “We’re only five and four years apart,” he replied. “Though I hope they remember me―” he bit his lip and looked back to the device in his hand. “Or maybe I don’t.”

“I see,” Tetsurou muttered. He understood, separating from your family before getting into a job like this. Tetsurou had done the same. Before he left with Koutarou, he remembered the owl constantly asking him, _‘Are you sure you want to do this? You realize you won't be able to come in contact with your family ever again if you don’t want to put them at risk,’_ and at the time, Tetsurou had been so young and stupid that he accepted.

Tetsurou lifted the bomb again in his lap, and the two fell in silence again as they worked.

* * *

Shouyou got back to Osamu in the kitchen and set the bags on the counter in the kitchen. The chef was quick to make his way over, thanking the shorter one under his breath as he rushed to grab the ingredients from the bag.

“Sorry it took so long, Osamu,” Shouyou said with a nervous laugh. “We ran into a few things.”

Osamu raised an eyebrow as he pulled things out. “Like, what? Wait, _‘we_ ’?”

“Yeah, Kageyama tagged along,” Shouyou said. “And well, first off, we found a girl lost in the store so we returned her to her mother.”

“Nice,” Osamu said with a smile.

“Then we ran into a predicament which made Kageyama drop the bags.” Shouyou gave another nervous chuckle, “Long story short, some guy had a gun to Kageyama’s head.” Osamu dropped the can that was in his hand. It rolled on the counter and almost off the edge, but Shouyou reached out and caught it. “Sorry! I didn’t mean to freak you out.”

Osamu shook the nerves in the back of his neck away with a shudder of his shoulders. “No,” he mumbled. “No, it’s fine. Is Kageyama alright?” He asked. Shouyou nodded. “Good," Osamu muttered feeling relieved he didn't accidentally send Tobio and Shouyou on a death mission, even though Tobio getting hurt wouldn't have been his fault anyway.

“Yeah,” Shouyou muttered. Suddenly, he was quiet and staring down at the counter in thought. “Alright, sorry! I gotta go, see you later, Osamu! Good luck!”

“Thanks,” he said, and Shouyou left the kitchen.

  
  


Osamu started to get things done, working and looking through the ingredients. He counted for everything on the list and lined them up.

All except one thing.

“Fuck,” Osamu muttered as he did another check through of what Shouyou had given to him. There was one thing missing, though it wasn’t like Osamu could get mad at Shouyou. He had said that Tobio dropped the bags, and it had probably fallen out. It was a simple ingredient too. Actually, it was something that Osamu didn’t have to run all the way into town for. He knew they had it at the store that was a simple five-minute run that he could spare.

The twin sighed and quickly undid his apron, tossing it on the counter. _‘Guess I could go myself.’_ Osamu checked his pocket for his keys and left the kitchen. He headed down the hallway, already pulling out the keys and fumbling with them before he was even out the front door.

“Osamu?” The twin stopped and looked. “What are you in a rush for?”

“Needa run to the store real quick.”

“Mind if I tag along?” Tooru asked, and he began to follow Osamu when the twin started walking again. 

“Sure. If ya want.”

“Sweet,” Tooru chimed. “Then I’m tagging along.”

* * *

Kiyoomi laid on the bed, shirtless, staring up at the ceiling, arms spread out like a starfish. He groaned as he felt Atsumu work a pair of tweezers into the wound in his side, fishing around for the bullet. The twin had his other hand planted on Kiyoomi’s lower stomach, holding him down whenever the other would twitch in pain.

“Gah,” Kiyoomi hissed.

“Sorry,” Atsumu muttered, and he twisted the tweezers, feeling the metal prongs pinch around the bullet. “Got it,” he said as he slowly pulled out the tweezers. Quickly, he grabbed a towel and placed it over the injury, stopping any more blood from leaving his body. He was already feeling light-headed, but the look on Atsumu’s face told him he should save telling him that for later. 

The twin dropped the bullet in a small trash can he had moved next to the bed. He moved the towel and picked up a small bottle of water, pouring it over the shot to clean up any mess of blood before he wiped it away with another clean towel. Atsumu grabbed a small sewing kit, going to work on Kiyoomi’s lower stomach to stitch him up. Kiyoomi let the twin work in silence even though he knew he probably needed something to be said, that was just the kind of person that Atsumu was. Though he couldn’t find anything to say, not until he was finished. He just let Atsumu work.

Atsumu finished with a quiet sigh and began to clean everything up, tossing away all the trash before he slipped the gloves off. Kiyoomi sat up on the bed, looking at the twin who slowly peeled the bloody, rubber gloves off his hands and dropped them into the trash.

“Hey,” Kiyoomi said. Atsumu looked over at him, rubbing his thumb into the palm of his other hand. “It wasn’t your fault if that’s what you’re thinking.

“Kinda was,” Atsumu muttered quietly.

“Well, I don’t care.”

“Ya should.”

“I don’t.”

“Ya got shot, Omi," Atsumu said as if it wasn't obvious. A part of Kiyoomi missed the _‘Kiyoomi’_. 

“I don’t care, it’s not even that bad,” Kiyoomi said instead.

“Bad or not bad, ya still got hurt ‘cause of me―”

“Atsumu, I swear to God,” Kiyoomi said maybe a bit too harshly, but he didn’t know how else to get it through Atsumu’s skull. He grabbed Atsumu by the cheeks. “I do not give a shit. Stop silently beating yourself up over it.”

Atsumu’s heart skipped a bit, and he swallowed. “Can we hug again?” He asked in a quiet voice. “That was nice,” Atsumu added in a whisper. Kiyoomi let out a quiet sigh, and he nodded, taking his hands off Atsumu’s face so that the twin could move in.

Atsumu did, and he did it without a second thought. His arms wrapped around Kiyoomi, face buried into his shoulder. He breathed in, smelling the scent of a little sweat and ― was that fresh paper? Probably because of the office building. His cologne was still there, strong over the other smells. Atsumu suspected he probably bought a strong, expensive brand.

Surprisingly, the twin pulled away first, and he looked away, clearing his throat. “‘Lright,” he said, “ya can go take a shower, I’ll clean up the rest. Careful with the stitchin’, too.”

“Yeah,” Kiyoomi said, and he slipped off the bed. There was a slight aching pain in his lower stomach from the shot, but he didn’t make that evident in his facial expressions at all. He just grabbed clean clothes and headed to the bathroom to start his well-needed shower.

* * *

Issei sat on the couch in his apartment, flipping through papers and papers off work that he needed to get done. He decided to bring it home to work instead. There was the strain of an office he didn’t like, especially since his father had been an office worker. Considering he wanted to be _nothing_ like him, he didn’t particularly like working in an office and preferred to work at home.

There was something different about what he brought home today, too. Sure, Issei had the workload of shuffling through papers on statistics of people who wanted to be trained to fight ― Issei, yes, trained other people. He was a very skilled fighter, and he thought he should take a hand in training a _‘next generation’._ Tetsurou was doing it as well sometimes.

The difference today was that Takahiro had tagged along again. It seemed like he was doing that often. The other had taken a shower, raided his fridge, and then passed out on the other side of the couch that Issei had been working on.

And the thing was, Issei didn’t care at all. He just paused his work, picked up the other without waking him up, and carried him into his bedroom so that Issei's working wouldn’t bother him. The fighter returned to the living room and played light, soft music as he worked, end of the pen repeatedly tapping on the paper as he read over page, for page, _for page_ of people explaining personal fighting experiences.

The working lasted probably an hour, the music gave a lighter mood to the constant working. Sometimes you could catch him humming, lightly bobbing his head, tapping the pen to the beat of the song. Times like this were nice. 

  
  


“Issei.” 

Upon hearing his given name, he turned his head, and it turned even quicker when he had heard the tone of voice. It was quiet, soft, and sounded even scared. Takahiro stood at the end of the hallway, a blank stare in his expression, lifted shoulders, a shrunken posture. He looked terrified, red eyes and puffy cheeks, sprawled hair and shaky fists by his sides.

“Hanamaki,” Issei said as he quickly stood up and placed down his work. He rushed over, something in his chest hurt just seeing Takahiro like this His hand reached out, flicking some of the bangs that had fallen over the other’s face. The torturer had been looking down. Issei grabbed his chin, tilting it upward. This close, Issei could see his face stained with tears, the glossy look in his eyes. Takahiro wouldn’t look at him, his eyelids were slanted shut slightly as he stared off to the side with a pained look in his eyes.

“Why’d you let me fall asleep without taking the meds?” He softly asked.

“Nightmare?”

Takahiro nodded. “It was bad too,” he said in what Issei would barely even confirm as a whisper. His hands reached up and grabbed ahold of the one that held his chin, Takahiro lowered it but still held on, wrapping one of his hands around Issei’s fingers, the other held the palm of Issei’s hand. He still held it close to him, taking a step toward Issei. “I was torturing you _again_ ,” Takahiro quietly explained in a shuddered breath. “And, oh, my god, I’m so sorry, Issei.”

“Shh, it’s fine,” Issei reassured. “I’m fine, I’m okay. It was just a nightmare, not real. Hey, Hanamaki ― Takahiro, look at me.” Takahiro finally did look at him, maybe hearing his given name was that push he needed to snap him to reality and out of the half-awake torture that was dragging himself through the memory of the nightmare. “It’s okay.”

Takahiro bit his lip, turning the pink skin white. “I’m sorry,” he said again. “Can ― can you find my meds?”

Issei nodded. “Of course, yeah.”

Takahiro pursed his lips, and he let his head fall. “Can you come to bed with me?” Issei felt something in his body run cold ― his blood. He froze a bit, that was before something in the back of his mind screamed at him to snap out of it and answer the person standing scared in front of him. 

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “Yeah, just let me clean up.”

“Okay,” Takahiro said, and he took a deep breath, lifting his head. His grip that held onto Issei's hands loosened, and he dropped them, returning his own hands to his sides. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

Takahiro nodded. “Okay.”

Then Issei thought, _‘Fuck it. Might as well take a chance.’_ He reached forward, brushing the hair out of Takahiro’s face once more. Issei leaned over, pressing a kiss to Takahiro’s forehead, his hand resting on the back of his neck, thumb rubbing comfortably behind the other’s ear. He kept close, his lips brushing on Takahiro’s head as he mumbled, “I’ll just be a second, I promise.”

“Yeah,” Takahiro said as he pulled away, there was a fair redness in his face, but it wasn’t that evident in the dark of the hallway. “I'm gonna go wait,” he muttered softly as he took a step back toward the bedroom. “Thank you.”

“Yeah,” Issei said, fully letting go of Takahiro. He watched him disappear into the hallway to his bedroom and let out a big sigh. Issei ran a hand through his hair as he released a deep breath he had held in for so long to keep his cool. _‘Fuck.’_

* * *

Osamu and Tooru walked the street back to the car after having rushed around the store looking for what he needed. It wasn’t a rush of he didn’t know where it was, it was the rush of he knew that he was running out of time.

“I’m sure it’ll be fine,” Tooru commented to Osamu on the way back. They were close to the parking lot where they left their car. They had to slip into a part of the area that didn’t allow cars but was just a set of markets. 

“Ya say that,” Osamu muttered.

“Come on. Stuff usually always works out for us.”

“Sometimes.”

“Most of the time.”

“Not really.”

“How could you say that?” Tooru asked with a fake gasp.

“Haven’t ya all been kidnapped multiple times in the past like, two months?” Osamu raised an eyebrow. They reached the car door, Osamu standing at the door of the driver's side with his hand on the handle, Tooru on the side of the passenger door.

“That’s irrelevant, and don’t say kidnapped.”

“Whaddya want me to say?”

“Captured. We’re not children.”

“Right.”

“Osamu.”

“What?” 

Tooru watched behind Osamu as a guy quietly held a gun to the back of his head. When did he get there? He must have been hidden behind a nearby car. The worst part of it was that Osamu didn’t know code words. He didn’t know what the signal was for when someone was standing behind you with a gun behind your head. Tooru didn’t know _what_ to do.

He suddenly felt his leg give out underneath him, and Tooru fell to the concrete. The analyzer had yelled something out, but it wasn’t words, more of a jumble of a grunt and scream. It hadn’t been his bad knee, thank god. 

Falling to the ground was pointless Tooru had found when the guy who swung the bat at the inside of his knee pulled him up by the hair. “We caught Oikawa Tooru and Miya Atsumu’s twin,” they spoke. “I’d say that’s a win.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Twitter @inuokkotsu
> 
> I can't remember if I pointed it out last chapter or never or at all but I don't really tweet or write hq anymore, it's mainly jjk. That doesn't mean I've stopped, but I won't make long fics like this again


	31. O²

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW // Torture
> 
> O² = Osamu and Oikawa

**MAR. 24**

It wasn’t a weird thing for Hitoka to wake up in an empty bed. Her fiancé was the type to wake up really early, take a shower, and cook up some amazing breakfast in that time that it took Hitoka to crawl out of the bed and head into the kitchen. She rolled over on his side, breathing in the sheets. It was weird. The usual smell that Osamu left behind was fainter than it usually was every morning.

_‘Maybe he woke up early.’_ Hitoka rolled out of bed and ran her fingers through her messy, blonde hair. She headed into the kitchen, expecting a waft of breakfast food to slap her in the face when she opened the bedroom door.

Yet there was nothing. She frowned and entered the kitchen. Everything had been like it had been the morning before.

“Osamu?” Hitoka called out, and she headed into the bathroom. No fog on the mirror, no random pools of water that he tended to leave behind, no damp towel hung on the shower bar.

No Osamu.

Hitoka went back to her bedroom, unplugging her phone before she grabbed it and headed into the living room. She dialed the number that she remembered all too well and moved to the window, moving aside the curtain as she held the phone to her ear. 

_Ringing, ringing, ringing, ringing._

_“I’m sorry. The person you are calling can not accept calls at this time.”_

What?

_‘What? He can’t be at the office already? Why would he be? Maybe he stayed overnight.’_ Osamu did have that meeting he was meant to be preparing food for, and he told her it would take a while, so he sent Hitoka home early. She did end up staying up late waiting for him, maybe up until eleven PM, but he didn’t come home by that time so she gave up and went to bed. Hitoka had expected him when she woke up.

He wasn’t anywhere to be found, and his phone had been turned off.

Hitoka rushed to get ready, skipping a normal shower she’d take, skipping breakfast ― she couldn’t cook anyway. She hopped in the car, and Hitoka drove _fast_. 

* * *

Hitoka wasn’t sure what to do at first. She wanted to contact Atsumu on the drive there but one, she was driving. Two, she wasn’t sure if Osamu was just still at the office and had turned off his phone so he could focus. Three, Atsumu was almost a day’s drive out, and she had no idea if he and Kiyoomi were already on their way back or not.

She stepped through the doors and went straight to the lady at the front desk. “Hey, Alisa! Goodmorning,” Hitoka said with a calm voice. She tried to cover up how worried and jittery she was as she stepped up to the counter. The light-haired woman looked up from her set of papers and smiled. Her green eyes were gorgeous, and Hitoka swore that she was only working there because her brother worked in communications. If she wanted to, the woman could seriously be a model. 

“Morning, Hitoka!” 

“Hey, um, you wouldn’t have happened to see Osamu around?” Hitoka asked.

“Osamu?” Alisa frowned. “No, I haven’t. Why?”

“When was the last you saw him?” Hitoka asked while biting her lip, chewing on the skin now. 

“He left yesterday with Oikawa around seven-thirty.”

_‘Seven-thirty.’_ Hitoka didn't like the sound of that. “Alright, thank you, Alisa,” she muttered.

“Is everything alright?”

“Yup!” Hitoka lied. “See you! I have to get to the armory.”

Alisa frowned. She clearly wasn’t sold, but she smiled and nodded. “Okay, let me know if there’s anything I can do!” 

Hitoka nodded with a smile and headed to the armory.

  
  


She unlocked the armory door and headed to her office, having to unlock that door as well before she walked in and set her purse on her desk. Hitoka grabbed her phone and leaned against her desk, trying to call Osamu once again. It was a repeat.

_Ringing, ringing, ringing, ringing._

_“I’m sorry. The person you are calling can not accept calls at this time.”_

Hitoka tossed her phone down and left the room. The kitchen was where she’d try next.

The most worrying part was when the door to the kitchen was left unlocked and ingredients were left out. She grabbed her phone from her pocket as she began to look around the kitchen, checking the back office, checking the freezer ― maybe a half-awake Osamu accidentally locked himself in there. 

_Ringing, ringing, ringing, ringing._

_“I’m sorry. The person you are calling can not accept calls at this time.”_

Tooru didn’t pick up either.

“No, what do I do, what do I do, what do I do?” She muttered quickly to herself, running her fingers through her hair. “Where _is_ he?” Hitoka slipped her phone back in her pocket, and her gaze caught a look at the ring sitting on her finger. “Where is he?”

* * *

The chef groaned, turning his head to the side. His chin hit his chest, and he groggily opened his eyes.

“Osamu? Are you awake?”

“Huh?”

“Are you okay?” A voice asked.

Osamu’s eyes cracked open slowly, and he looked around the room. An aching feeling gripped around his wrists; a numbness in his fingertips; a dryness in his throat. Osamu felt awful in every sense of the way. He picked up his head, struggling to lift it as his head felt like a ton of bricks, and glanced over to his left. Nothing but a dirty, stone wall. He looked over to his left, and Osamu felt his heart drop fifty feet. 

Tooru, chained cuffed around his wrists, arms above his head, hooks from the ceiling holding him from touching the floor, was looking over at him with a dead, tired look in his eyes. Osamu was in the same position. Tooru looked slightly in pain, but it didn’t seem like it was from the same pain that squeezed around his wrists.

“Wha the hell?” Osamu muttered.

“So you’re okay?”

“Be betta if I wasn’t―” Osamu looked around the room. It was mildly small, extremely dirty and disgusting, cold. There was a window behind them with bars on it. Frankly, it was how Osamu predicted a prison would be like. “Where the hell are we?”

“I’m not actually sure about that,” Tooru muttered. 

“Are ya ‘lright?”

“Huh?” Tooru chuckled as he looked at Osamu. “You’re asking me that? I’ve been in this situation before plenty of times. You haven’t ― at least not recently," he muttered. "How are you holding up?” Tooru asked.

“By chains.”

Tooru scoffed, and then he laughed. “Yeah, you’re definitely Atsumu’s twin.”

“Sadly,” Osamu muttered. He raised an eyebrow at Tooru. “It’s yer knee, ain’t it?”

Tooru sighed. He let his head fall, chin hit his chest. “Yeah,” Tooru replied. “They didn’t get my bad knee but it still hurts like a bitch. Scared the hell out of me too.”

“So ya can’t get us outta here?” Osamu asked quietly.

Tooru sighed. “Unfortunately, no. I have no plans.”

“Great,” Osamu groaned. “Then what?”

“We wait, I guess, for someone to realize we’re missing and find us.”

“How long will that take?” 

Tooru took a deep breath and sighed. “I don’t know.”

_‘Great.’_ Osamu sighed mentally. _‘Great.’_

* * *

Hitoka knocked on the office door quickly, and she didn’t even bother waiting for a response. She swung open the door and stepped in. There was no one in there. Hitoka sighed, leaving the office and closing the door behind her before she went on yet another hunt. _'_ _He better not be missing too.’_

She entered the lounge room and finally found who she was looking for.

The short assassin stood at the coffee machine, and he looked over when she walked in. “Hey, Hitoka,” Hajime said.

“Have you seen Oikawa?" Hitoka asked. Hajime shook his head as he raised the fresh cup of coffee to his lips and sipped on it. “That’s not concerning to you?” She questioned.

“He’s an adult.”

“Did you try calling him?”

“No,” Hajime replied. He set the cup down. “Are you alright?”

“No,” Hitoka said, and she didn’t even mean to. She was trying to hide how frantic she was but standing there with everything hitting her at once was breaking her down. The armorer wanted to reply with, _‘Yes, everything is alright,’_ but there were tears threatening in her eyes with worry. Hajime noticed, and he stepped to her and put a hand on her shoulder.

“Hitoka, what’s happening?” He asked.

“Try calling Oikawa," Hitoka said. Hajime nodded and pulled out his phone. He clicked Tooru’s contact and raised the phone to his ear. Hitoka could hear the ringing and automated voice she had heard already three times this morning. 

“His phone is turned off?” Hajime muttered as he lowered it and looked at the phone. 

“Osamu’s does the same too,” she mumbled quietly. “I don’t know where they are.”

“How’d you learn Oikawa was missing too?”

“Alisa said she saw them leaving together around seven-thirty.” Hitoka bit her lip. “Come on,” she said as he began to leave the lounge. 

“Where?” Hajime asked, grabbing his coffee as he started to follow Hitoka.

“Just come on.”

* * *

No matter the bickering that came from Atsumu, Kiyoomi didn’t let him drive.

“Omi, I'm serious! Let me drive. Ya got _shot_ yesterday,” the twin said as he tossed his bag into the backseat of the car. It was five-thirty AM when they started to get on the road to head back to the office.

“I told you a million times, Atsumu. I’m fine.”

“Omi―”

“Atsumu, get in the car.”

Atsumu sighed and opened the passenger door. “Fine,” he grumbled, “but if ya wanna switch ‘n nap in the back or somethin’ then _tell me_.” Kiyoomi chuckled and opened the driver's door.

“Sure,” he said.

  
  


It was an hour or two on the road when Atsumu started acting a bit weird. He chewed his lip. The twin even stayed quiet even from the obnoxious humming he’d usually do. Atsumu just stared out of the window.

Kiyoomi sighed. “I told you I’m alright.”

“T’s not that,” Atsumu answered quietly. “I dunno. Somethin’ doesn’t feel right.”

“We did leave a guy alive.”

Atsumu shook his head. “Not that either.”

“What then?”

“I dunno,” Atsumu said, and he seemed a little angry he couldn’t name it. “Can we just get back?” 

“I’m driving the speed limit.”

Atsumu groaned and sunk into his seat. _‘Then step on it.’_

* * *

The next office Hitoka barged into, she didn’t knock either. She invited herself in like she had multiple times before and looked around the room. Hajime stayed behind her and watched by the door. There was no one in the main part of the office but the complementary bathroom door was closed and the faint sound of a shower was on the other side. She walked up to the door, and Hajime thought she was going to knock at first, but she didn’t. 

Hitoka opened the door and looked in. “Hana?” She called out.

A shampoo bottle fell from in the shower, and the familiar head of one Hanamaki Takahiro popped his head from around the shower curtain. His face looked red a bit, but Hitoka assumed it was from how hot the shower was. “Huh? Holy fuck, you scared the shit out of me, Token.”

“Get out. We need to talk.”

“Can I wash my hair first?”

“No," Hitoka said, and it was stern enough for Takahiro to know she was serious. He sighed and disappeared behind the curtain again. The sound of the shower shutting off gave Hitoka her cue to close the door and let Takahiro get changed.

It took not even five minutes before Takahiro stepped out of the bathroom with sweats on and a towel resting on his shoulders. He sighed and brought the cloth up to his head, rubbing his hair wildly with the towel. “What goes on, Toka?” Takahiro asked.

“Osamu and Oikawa are missing.”

Takahiro froze, and he lowered the towel from his hair. “Oh.” Takahiro turned on his heel and tossed the towel back in the bathroom. He walked over to his desk and picked up a sweater on the back of the chair. “You have no idea where they are?” Hitoka shook her head. “Iwaizumi?” He asked him.

“Nope," Hajime replied. Takahiro sighed, and he plopped himself down at his computer. He typed in his password and chewed his lip. Hitoka, impatient, stepped up to the desk and looked over. “What are you doing?” The sniper asked.

“The twins,” Takahiro began to say, “are highly protective over each other, as you know, Toka.” Hitoka nodded. “And they never told anyone but me and Ukai but,” Takahiro’s fingers flew across the keyboard, “they may or may not have put tracking bits in each other.”

“What?” Hajime deadpanned. He scoffed. “You’re kidding.”

“Dead serious,” he said while leaning back in his chair. “The thing is, Atsumu and Osamu are the only people who know the password that lets us in.”

“So?” Hitoka said quietly.

“So we have to tell Atsumu if we’re gonna learn where they are.” Takahiro sighed. “Or we can find them the old fashion way, but getting the password from Atsumu is the quickest and most reliable way.” Hitoka took a deep breath. She really didn’t want to tell Atsumu. If she was being honest, she wanted to be able to slip the event completely underneath the radar. She _knew_ how Atsumu was over his twin.

Though she had no other option. “Okay,” she finally said. “Okay, let’s call him.”

* * *

The ringing threw Atsumu from his thoughts, and he jumped a little in his seat as he fumbled to find his phone. He pulled it from between the seat and the console in the car. His eyes squinted at the caller ID.

“What?” Kiyoomi asked.

“Hitoka,” Atsumu muttered, and he answered the call, throwing it on speaker while he was at it. “Hitoka? What’s up?”

_“Atsumu.”_

“Yah?” 

_“Something happened and we need your help.”_

Atsumu sat up in his seat more. “What?”

_“The thing is,”_ Hitoka said nervously on the other end. _“Well,”_ a nervous laugh came from her, and Atsumu could tell she was scared to say it, _“we may not know where Osamu is.”_

“Whaddaya mean?” He asked. It was clear he tried to stay calm, the way that his fingernails started to scratch into the seat. “Hitoka, explain.”

_“H-he didn’t come home last night, and he’s nowhere to be found. His phone is turned off, so is Oikawa.”_

_“So, Atsumu,”_ another voice said on the other end, and Atsumu knew it was Takahiro. _“I need that password right about now.”_

“When I get there.”

_“Come again?”_ Takahiro asked.

“Omi, drive faster.”

“I’m driving the speed limit," Kiyoomi replied, unaware of what was going on.

“Then pull over ‘n lemme drive. I’ll be the one to get my license taken away.”

“No,” Kiyoomi replied. Atsumu was about to continue to argue with him, but Takahiro interrupted him.

_“Sakusa is right, you shouldn’t drive.”_

“Shut up.”

_“Atsumu, I called you because I trusted you to give me the password. Do you want us to find your brother or not?”_ Atsumu chewed his lip. _“Atsumu,”_ Takahiro repeated sternly.

“Omi, how far are we?”

“Like,” Kiyoomi picked up his phone and unlocked it, the screen already on the maps. “An hour.” Atsumu stared at him, even after Kiyoomi had thrown down his phone and returned his eyes to the road. Kiyoomi sighed and stepped on the gas. “Give us thirty minutes.”

* * *

“You’re both awake now?” 

Tooru groaned at the sound of the voice entering the room. The door had been left open. They must’ve been pretty confident that the two wouldn’t be able to break out of the chains. Honestly, they were right to be. Tooru definitely didn’t have the strength to do what Issei could do, and Osamu wouldn’t know where to start. The man who walked in with a metal crowbar had come in a few times before. He would poke Tooru with the crowbar, asking him when Osamu would wake up. Usually, Tooru would respond with an annoyed groan and an _‘I don’t know’_ and had to stop himself from spitting in the guy's face.

“Yeah,” Tooru replied. “What do you want?”

“Him.” The guy stepped to Osamu who moved his head back when he pointed the crowbar at him. “We want him.”

“He’s a chef.”

“He’s a killer’s stupid twin.”

“Why go after Osamu then?” Tooru asked. “Why not just directly go after Atsumu?”

“Because,” the guy said, “we get Osamu, we get Atsumu, and it’s far easier to capture him than to just head straight for the other little shithead.” Osamu was left silent, biting his tongue in fear as he shifted uncomfortably in the chains. How Tooru was able to calmly respond to him was beyond Osamu. “And if we hurt Osamu, we hurt Atsumu.” The man raised the crowbar to Osamu who twitched. He clenched his eyes and moved his head to the side, holding his breath as he prepared for the worst.

“Stop!” Tooru screamed out. “Stop, if you’re going to hurt one of us, hurt me.” He swung in the chains, kicking on the wall a bit to try and boost himself so he could reach the man with his foot. Tooru couldn’t let Osamu get hurt. He _wouldn’t_.

The man tilted his chin and lowered the crowbar, stepping to Tooru. “You’re Oikawa Tooru, right? The one with the stupid knee injury.” Tooru ground his teeth together and stared in silence. “Nothing? Alright,” and he moved back to Osamu.

“Fuck, fine! Yes, I am.”

“Really?” The guy smirked. Back to Tooru. “So this must _really_ hurt?” He asked, and before Tooru could ask _‘What?’_ in a dead, bored tone, the man lifted his hand and swung the crowbar from the side into _both_ of Tooru’s kneecaps. 

Tooru felt a shooting pain, it had been worse than the initial injury. It stung, and Tooru swore he felt his bones crack. He screamed out, louder than he thought he would, and it scratched his throat so bad that he started coughing violently. Tooru felt like he was going to throw up, and the tears were already streaming down his face. He wasn't actively crying though, it just poured from his eyes uncontrollably. 

“Guess so,” the man chuckled. “You really want to take all the pain I’d give to this twin right here?”

Tooru’s breath hitched, and he wanted to say no. He already wanted to give up. Osamu was an adult, he could take the pain. Hell, Osamu had _been_ through the pain before, but he quit years ago. He could take it. Osamu could take it if Tooru needed him to.

Though Tooru exhaled sharply and looked up at the guy. “Yeah, I fucking do,” he said.

The crowbar bunted harshly into his gut, and Tooru had another coughing fit, writhing in the chains that scratched around his wrists. There was a pinching feeling in the corner of his eye. Tooru was barely given time to recover before he felt a fist across his face, slamming into his cheek. He felt the bones of his teeth loosen, and Tooru spat toward the ground, watching as a tooth landed in a pile of blood in front of him. His entire body ached in pain, but nothing was like the feeling in his legs.

Mostly because he _couldn’t_ feel anything anymore.

“Mhm,” the guy hummed, and he stuck the crowbar out, lifting Tooru’s chin with the cold, rusted metal. “Dumbass,” he chuckled before leaving the room.

  
  


“Oikawa,” Osamu stuttered out, finally able to say something when the two were left alone. His voice was shaky and small. If you asked Tooru, he wouldn’t be able to believe that Osamu used to kill people in his spare time. “Oikawa, the fuck? Why’d ya do that? Yer fuckin’ knee.”

“Because,” Tooru groaned, and he stared blankly at the floor in front of him. “How else are you going to walk at your wedding if you _can’t_ walk?”

Osamu let out a breath, and it shook. He looked away from Tooru, shutting his eyes tight as if he could wish himself away. Osamu just wanted this to be a nightmare; Osamu didn’t care if he woke up in bed quickly, sweating, and struggling to breathe. That way at least none of this would be real, and at least Hitoka would be by his side.

Though it wasn’t. All of it was real. Osamu was chained to the ceiling with Tooru who had probably just given up the ability to walk just so Osamu could walk down the aisle in a week.

Osamu was already struggling to breathe.

* * *

Hitoka let Hajime and Takahiro into any part of the armory. She didn’t care about checklists or keeping track, she just cared about Osamu, where he was, and finding him.

The armorer lifted her skirt and clipped on a belt around her thigh, tucking a small, silver knife into the holder. She readied a gun, cocking it and making sure it was ready to fire if she needed to.

“What’s happening?” They looked to the door. Hajime was strapping a gun to his side; Takahiro was pulling down one of the small hatchets on the shelf. Issei stood there, hand on the doorway as he looked his coworkers up and down to try and figure out the situation. “What are you guys doing?”

“Oikawa and Osamu got kidnapped, and we’re going out to get them,” Takahiro explained quickly, and he spun the hatchet in his hand. Issei raised his eyebrows and walked into the room.

“Atsumu and Sakusa are getting back,” Hitoka added.

“Oh, so you’re going to have four people going?” Issei asked.

“Five, Matsukawa. Can you count?” Takahiro asked. 

“Yeah,” Issei said as he stepped up to Takahiro. He took the hatchet from Takahiro who was about to argue. “You’re not going.”

“Excuse you?” Takahiro asked as he watched Issei put the hatchet back. “When the fuck did you become my boss?”

Issei leaned closer to him. “Since you had a nightmare last night and you’re still clearly shaky about it,” he whispered.

Takahiro snapped his head over to him and shoved him in the shoulder. “I’m fine,” he said through his teeth. “Matsukawa―”

“You’re not going. Four people are enough," Issei said coldly. Hitoka realized then. She was pretty smart at reading situations, and she was especially smart about reading Takahiro since she had known him for so long. The look in his eyes currently made sense. Whatever Issei had whispered in his ear reminded and scared him a bit. The redness in his face that had been there when he looked out of the shower hadn’t been from heat, it had been from crying.

“You had a nightmare last night, didn’t you, Hana?” Hitoka pieced together. 

Takahiro sighed. “I am _fine._ ”

“You’re not going,” Hitoka said, and she grabbed her keys from the counter she had tossed them down on. “Come on, we need to meet Atsumu out front.”

“You’re kidding, right?” Takahiro scoffed. “Seriously?”

“Hana.”

Takahiro looked between Hitoka and Issei, looking at the stares he got from the two of them with a pained look in his eyes. He was desperate. This was Tooru too. Tooru and Osamu. The torturer sighed and looked to Hajime. “If you let Hitoka get hurt, I’ll kill you. She can take care of herself but just in case.”

Hajime raised a hand and nodded. “Got it, you have my word.”

“Okay,” Takahiro sighed, and he grabbed the hatchet again. Issei raised an eyebrow at him but let him grab it. He did agree to stay so the fighter thought, _‘Whatever it is with this hatchet, I’ll deal with it later_.' “One more thing before you leave. Come on.”

  
  


Takahiro brought them back to his office and opened a drawer. He grabbed out a laptop without a word and set it on the desk, opening it up. The torturer set the hatchet down as he opened an application and quickly filled out some empty boxes with information. That was until he stopped at a white box and closed the computer. He handed it to Hitoka and picked up the hatchet before handing it off to Hajime.

“Atsumu is gonna want that,” he said while pointing to the hatchet, and then he looked at Hitoka. “All Atsumu has to do is type in the password, and it’ll start getting Osamu and Oikawa's location.”

“Thanks, Hana.”

Takahiro sighed and hugged her. “And _come back_ and be careful.”

“I will,” Hitoka laughed. “I will.”

“Good,” Takahiro said with a smile. “Now go before I smuggle myself into the back of the car and come with.”

* * *

When Kiyoomi pulled into the parking lot of the building, Atsumu hopped out quickly. Hitoka was sitting out front with Hajime. It was clear the sniper was trying to calm her down. 

“Hitoka,” Atsumu said as he stepped up to her, “are ya ‘lright?”

“I’m fine, Atsumu,” she answered. “Let’s go.”

“What?” He shook his head a little. “Wait, yer comin’?”

“Yes,” Hitoka said. “Yes, of course, I’m coming.” Atsumu looked over to Hajime who shrugged. He knew that Osamu would probably kill him for letting Hitoka come with them, but at this point, he didn't care. The twin just sighed and waved a hand for them to leave. 

“Well, come on then. ‘M not wastin’ any more time.”

  
  


The four hopped in the same car, Hitoka rode in the back with Atsumu so the two could work the tracking device. Hajime had handed the twin the hatchet, which he thanked him, and Hitoka had handed him the laptop once they got in the car. She watched as he opened the device and read the screen, smiling to himself and thanking Takahiro under his breath for getting it all ready so that all Atsumu had to do was type in a password. The website looked really confusing, but it seemed like he was familiar with working it.

How had she not known about the tracking device before?

“Omi, sendin’ ya the location,” Atsumu said as he sat on the edge of the seat, leaning in between the seats to get a look out the windshield. 

“If you sit back maybe―”

“No.”

Kiyoomi sighed, and he reached for his phone sitting in the cupholder. He handed it to Hajime who seemed to know what to do. The sniper unlocked the phone and clicked the location message from Atsumu.

“There,” Hajime said while holding up the phone for Kiyoomi to see. He nodded, and Atsumu finally fell back into the seat. Hitoka could see the way he gripped the seat and watched the worried look on his face. He was probably carrying it all, blaming everything on himself. If something happened to Osamu, Hitoka wasn’t sure how Atsumu would react.

And that scared her.

* * *

Ten minutes after the guy had left after destroying Tooru’s kneecaps, the analyzer had passed out from pain. At least, Osamu was hoping he had passed from. He was hoping to God that he wasn’t dead. Osamu really wouldn’t know what to do. The twin was already shaking. He thought he had at least gotten out of being kidnapped for the rest of his life. It took a year for him to think that way and feel 'safe' but Osamu thought, _‘Hey, I quit all that. I shouldn’t be targeted, right?’_

Nope. Honestly, if anything, it made him weaker. Not only was he a prime target for some people who were big enemies with his brother but it made him vulnerable considering he didn’t fight anymore. Osamu remembered things, of course. Killing people wasn’t something that you could just forget. The twin still woke up in sweats from time to time from nightmares, though Hitoka was always there to reassure him to sleep.

He just _didn’t_ want to remember.

Osamu wasn’t a fan of Tooru being unconscious which was for a hundred percent selfish reasons. The twin couldn’t help it. He was terrified. Osamu felt like he needed Tooru to be awake. Tooru would comfort him, tell him it’d be okay, that someone was coming to get them. Though he didn’t have that. Osamu didn’t have that for a solid hour of waiting.

There was a banging sound in the distance, and Osamu couldn’t help but whine and swing in the chains. He wanted to break out of them, but he couldn’t. They were strong, and the grip they had around his wrists were soon to pop them out of place if he kept moving. So Osamu stopped swinging, and he tried to stay calm. The shuddering breath was something that he couldn’t stop and fought against. His fingertips still felt numb, and he wasn’t sure if that was due to a circulation thing or anxiety. 

The door swung open, and Osamu turned his head away, squeezing his eyes shut. A bright light shined into the room which would’ve blinded him anyway -- the room they had been left in was left dark and the window didn’t provide much light.

“Osamu.” 

Osamu looked up and quickly. “Atsumu.”

The blonde twin ran over to the tortured one. He pulled out a set of keys from his pocket with bloody hands and reached up to unlock the chains. Osamu fell on him, holding onto him for a bit until he found his footing. He wobbled on his feet a little. Osamu grabbed Atsumu's wrists, holding them up shakily as he looked at his twin’s bloody hands.

“Is it―” 

“Not my blood," Atsumu reassured. His eyes landed on his wrists, and he switched their hands. He held onto his twin’s wrists below the redness of them. “Fuck,” he muttered, and Atsumu looked around the room for something to cover them with. Which was when he saw Tooru. “Holy shit,” he muttered. 

“He um―” Osamu took a deep breath. “He―”

“Sh, it’s fine, ‘Samu,” Atsumu hushed, and he guided him to the table that sat in the room, helping him sit on it. “Iwaizumi!” Atsumu shouted out as he made his way to Tooru. Hajime was quick to pop in the doorway and look around. A splatter of blood was on his cheek, his hair was slightly tousled, and when his eyes landed on Tooru, they widened.

“Fuck,” he said, and he quickly made his way into the room to help the older twin get him down.

“Osamu.” 

Osamu’s head turned even quicker at that, and he let out a scoff seeing the short blonde at the door. “Hitoka,” he whispered, and she ran over, wrapping her arms around him. 

“Osamu,” she said, and she pulled away, holding his face in her hands. “Are you alright? Oh, my god. I’m so sorry. I should’ve noticed sooner, I should’ve come sooner. I should’ve stayed with you―” Osamu reached out and grabbed her chin, leaning forward to kiss her. Hitoka sighed in the kiss, a smile forming on her lips. She reached up and grabbed Osamu’s arm, and he winced, flinching away. “Osamu―” She looked down at his arms, moving her hands down so they weren’t bothering the wrists. “Oh, my god,” she muttered. Hitoka took off the thin cardigan she wore and pulled out a knife. She raised it and cut the fabric in half.

“Hitoka―”

“Sh,” she hushed, and she lifted his arms, wrapping his wrists carefully in the fabric. “We’re gonna bring you back to Konoha, alright?”

“I think Konoha is gonna be busy with Oikawa.”

“Huh?” Osamu pointed his head behind Hitoka, and she looked over her shoulder. Hajime helped Atsumu with Tooru, boosting him on the twin’s back so he could carry him out the door. Hitoka took a deep breath and turned back to Osamu. She noticed the look in his eyes.

“Osamu, whatever happened, it wasn’t your fault.”

“Ya don’t know the full story,” he mumbled.

“I don’t need to ― hey, look at me,” Hitoka spoke softly, and she lifted his chin. “Come on. It’s gonna be okay. Let’s leave first so we’re not in their way.”

Osamu nodded and slid off the table. He took one look back at Tooru before he followed Hitoka out of the room, grabbing the arm she outstretched for him to hold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Twitter @inuokkotsu


	32. Osamu's guilt

**MAR. 24**

“Does that hurt?”

“Nah―” Osamu began to say, but Hitoka tapped her fist on Osamu’s shoulder. He winced in pain and sighed. “Yah, does,” he admitted. Keiji nodded and grabbed a safer part of Osamu’s wrist, reaching to the side to grab a medicine cream. He rubbed it on the cleaned-up wrists. Osamu didn't have to, but he fought through and bit his tongue to stop himself from making any noises about the stings from the ointment. 

“So, what happened exactly?” Keishin asked. He stood by the door, leaned against the wall with his arms crossed. 

“Hinata didn’t bring back everythin’ I needed, so I went to get more,'' Osamu began. Hitoka stood aside him, hands on his shoulders rubbing soft circles to keep him calm and relaxed as Keiji patched up his wrists; Akinori was with Tooru. “Oikawa joined me ‘cause he said he wanted somethin’ from the store.” Osamu sighed, letting his head drop a little. “Then Oikawa and I got taken at gunpoint in the parkin’ lot.” He looked up at Hitoka. “How’d ya get ‘Tsumu? Thought he was a day's drive out?”

“He was,” Hitoka said, “but he was already on his way back, and I’m pretty sure he made Sakusa run some red lights.”

Osamu took a deep breath through his nose. “‘Course he did,” he muttered.

“Go into more detail about everything,” Keishin said as Keiji finished wrapping up the damaged wrists. “Akaashi will take detail and do a report for you.” Keiji nodded in agreement, even though it wasn't exactly an option, as he slipped off the rubber gloves and moved to wash his hands in the sink.

“‘Kay,” he mumbled quietly. Osamu sat up straight and sighed. It wasn’t the first time he had to explain an experience like this to someone, and it wasn’t like he hadn’t ever been the one who had to type out these reports. He was pretty sure Keishin just knew that Keiji did a lot of them and probably didn’t want to remind Osamu of when he had done them. Though Osamu would never be able to forget how he was seven years ago. He was far from forgiving himself. 

And all he had to do was explain what happened. That was easy. He remembered all the code words for certain injuries and names for tools, he remembered what you said when you forgot certain things and what you’d say if you preferred to say something in private if you need to. 

Osamu mentally took a deep breath. _‘I’ve done this before, I can do it ‘gain.’_

* * *

Atsumu leaned over his knees, running his hands through his hair as he let his head drop. He took a deep breath, wanting nothing more than to barge into the room with Osamu, Hitoka, Keiji, and Keishin. He had to stay out. They told him to stay out and wait. 

He just wanted to be in there.

Though no, Keiji told him he wasn’t allowed to listen to the rundown of what happened from Osamu because he was scared Atsumu would do something. Could Atsumu blame them? Honestly, no. He would. Atsumu would be sure to do something.

  
  


“Hey.” Atsumu sat up and looked over. Kiyoomi took a seat next to him on the bench outside the room. “How are you doing?”

“Ya askin’ me that?”

“After I got done asking everyone else, yes,” Kiyoomi said. Atsumu sighed, and he closed his eyes, biting his lip. He took another deep breath, he had been doing that a lot recently, but it was the only way he could think to calm himself down. “Osamu is fine.”

“I know,” Atsumu muttered. “But he was still in the situation ‘cause of me,” he said. “And Oikawa…” Atsumu trailed off.

“Oikawa wasn’t your fault.”

“Yah, it was, ‘n ya can’t tell me otherwise, Omi,” Atsumu quickly said. “So don’t even try.”

Kiyoomi sighed, and it seemed he gave up. The two fell into a silence of Atsumu grinding his teeth out of anxiousness. He gripped onto the seat, he tended to do that often. The knuckles of his hands going white. 

Atsumu felt a hand over his, and he froze. He looked over at Kiyoomi. The communicator wasn’t looking at him, but instead, he stared off at the door Atsumu was waiting to open. The twin let out the breath he was holding and leaned back against the wall, flipping his wrist around and slipping his fingers slowly between Kiyoomi’s. He was hesitant about it, not sure that if completely holding Kiyoomi’s hand was moving too fast ― _‘Movin’ too fast fer what?’_

It was for a few relaxing moments they sat like that. Atsumu swore that just _holding_ Kiyoomi’s hand was calming him down and the only thing keeping him calm. That was until the door finally opened, and Atsumu shot up from his seat, slipping his hand out of Kiyoomi and moving to the people walking out.

He didn’t give Osamu a chance to breathe, wrapping his arms around him to pull him into a hug. Of course, Osamu accepted the hug, wrapping his arms back around his twin. He pulled away and looked at Atsumu.

“Oikawa?” Osamu asked. Atsumu’s face dropped, and he shook his head. “Where’s he?”

“Sleepin’ right now.”

Osamu bit his lip. “‘M gonna go check up on him,” he muttered, and the twin walked past Atsumu and Kiyoomi, a hand reached up to hold one of his wrists that sat in medicine and bandages. Hitoka watched him walk down the hallway. It was obvious she was going to follow him at first, but she decided to leave him alone. He’d want to check on him alone. She’d bring it up when they were home.

“Atsumu?” Hitoka said instead. “How are you doing?”

“I wasn’t the one injured, Hitoka,” he muttered. “Actually,” he said suddenly, and he turned to Kiyoomi who still sat on the bench. “How’re ya?”

“Me?” Kiyoomi asked, and he scoffed. “Why are you asking me?”

“Don’t play dumb,” Atsumu hissed. Kiyoomi knew damn well what he was talking about. The gunshot from the night before.

Kiyoomi rolled his eyes. “It’s fine.”

“What happened?” Hitoka asked.

“Nothing,” Kiyoomi replied, and Hitoka looked to Atsumu for a real answer. He looked between her and the mysophobe before he sighed.

“Nothin’.”

* * *

Osamu slowly opened the door, it hurt to move his wrists as it already was. He stepped in the room, meeting with the green eyes that put their attention as he closed the door behind him. Hajime sat up in his seat, the chair that sat on the side of the hospital bed. The twin walked up to the edge of the bed, holding his arms to himself as he stared down at the person who occupied it.

“What’s uh,” Osamu started in a small voice. “What’s the results?”

Hajime inhaled deeply, sitting up fully and leaning back on the chair. He lifted his leg, resting it on his other one and crossed his arms. His gaze looked back at Tooru, watching as the unconscious one’s chest rose and fell. At least his breathing was controlled, that was good. “He um,” Hajime said, and his voice was raspy. “He probably won’t walk again,” he whispered. Osamu didn’t know what to say. The twin froze, and he felt a tingling run up his legs from his toes to the top of his head, the hairs on the back of his neck stood up.

  
  


Osamu had known Tooru for long, quite a long time ― seven years if they were keeping track. He remembered joining the agency and meeting Tooru, shaking his hand. The twins were sixteen at the time, Tooru had been seventeen. His smile was nice when they introduced themselves that first day, and Osamu remembered how good Tooru had been. The pure skill that came from him. It made Atsumu jealous when they were younger.

He had been introduced to Tobio as well that year. Osamu remembered how weird Tooru had acted around him. The analyzer knew the gunman was better than him, and he seemed to hate it. Tooru had broken down one time with the twins, though later after that, it seemed like he changed. Tooru had grown out of competing with Tobio constantly on the side and focused on being his own person. Osamu had gotten to witness that ― the change of the person that Oikawa Tooru used to be.

Osamu remembered a year later when Tooru came back with Keiji and Takahiro and they met. Of course, he had remembered that year the best. Takahiro joined and introduced them to Yachi Hitoka, a friend of the Hanamakis simply because her family supplied them with the weaponry for their torturing sessions. Takahiro and Hitoka had grown closer over the years their families worked together ― which was just about the entirety of their lives ― and when Takahiro got offered a job, he requested Hitoka join them too. Takahiro had been the one to introduce Hitoka to Osamu. He was the reason they had started talking; he was the reason they started dating; he was the reason they moved in together three years after that; since the beginning of February that year, he was the reason they were engaged.

A year later around that time, Morisuke joined them. They all grew closer. So much closer through the span of years. Osamu was convinced that he had found a new family.

Tooru had been there for the twins when they couldn’t be there for each other. He was the one who had initially helped Osamu convince Atsumu to not get revenge seven years ago. The way he told him of his own revenge and how getting it wasn’t as bittersweet as it seemed. He was the one that got Osamu a job in the kitchen because he told him he didn’t want to be an assassin anymore.

Osamu had been there the day three and a half years ago that Tooru had initially destroyed his knee. It was the one time in the last seven years that Osamu strapped on gear and headed into a dangerous building with his brother to rescue him. He was terrified, but Osamu couldn’t leave him. Osamu had entered that building and held the scared girl that Tooru saved while Atsumu and Takahiro lifted the heavy metal off of him.

Now Osamu stared at his long-time friend, basically a brother, as he laid unconscious in the hospital bed, knowing damn well that he will never be able to walk again and that was all his fault.

“We won’t know everything until he wakes up,” Hajime added. “It’s all up to him.”

“Meanin’ what?”

“Meaning he has options,” Hajime said. “He could get his leg with his bad knee removed and get a prosthetic, or he could be in a wheelchair the rest of his life.”

“Obviously he’s gonna pick a prosthetic,” Osamu muttered.

Hajime nodded. “I agree, but Konoha can’t just saw off his leg without permission. He needs to know the consequences for it all.”

“Like?”

“Like the responsibilities that are dealing with a prosthetic and the training he has to go through.” Osamu nodded. “Don’t blame yourself for it, Osamu,” Hajime added. “You’re not to blame.”

Osamu took a deep breath and headed to the door. He grabbed the handle, staring down at his hand as it held onto the doorknob. His eyes went to the bandages on his wrists, and he sighed. That was all that he left with, just some scratches from chains ― Tooru had lost his ability to walk. “Yah, people keep tellin’ me that,” he mumbled before he opened the door. “Thanks, Iwaizumi.”

* * *

Hitoka sighed, staring down the hallway her fiancé had walked down to visit Tooru. She scratched the side of her arm and frowned, trying to think of a way she could help Osamu. There wasn’t much that she could do, most of what happened was more of emotional trauma. The best thing that she could do was be there for him. 

_‘I remember he left a mess in the kitchen, I could clean up that.’_ She decided and turned around to head to the kitchen. 

“Where ya goin’?” 

“To clean Osamu’s mess in the kitchen,” Hitoka explained to Atsumu. The twin had run up to catch up to her and walk beside her. “Before I make him go home and sleep,” she added. Atsumu looked over his shoulder and waved an arm, a sigh coming from the mysophobe they left behind before he started to follow them as well.

“Well, I’ll have ya know that Omi is _amazin’_ at cleanin’. He’ll help ya.”

“What?” Kiyoomi asked. Atsumu put a hand on his back, pushing him to walk with Hitoka, and Kiyoomi wondered why Atsumu was pushing him to help Hitoka.

“‘M gonna go clean up the car, take our stuff out, ‘kay, Omi?” Atsumu said, then Kiyoomi realized it was Atsumu’s handicap for his injury. He probably didn’t want the mysophobe leaning in and out of a car, lugging bags. The twin probably thought it’d be less of a strain to clean some counters than unpack a car. 

Hitoka stopped in the hallway, looking between Kiyoomi who also stopped and looked at the twin over his shoulder, and Atsumu who stood with both hands on Kiyoomi’s back. The twin smiled widely at Kiyoomi, trying to convince him with just a look in his eyes.

The communicator sighed. “Alright," he muttered. If it would make Atsumu feel better, Kiyoomi didn't care.

“‘Lright! Go!” Atsumu lightly shoved.

  
  


Kiyoomi and Hitoka walked to the kitchen which was weird since the two hadn’t really talked before. The only time they really had a conversation was when Kiyoomi came to the armory to get weapons. 

They walked into the kitchen, Kiyoomi shuddering at the sight of the mess. Hitoka let out a laugh through her nose and stepped in, rolling up her sleeves and she headed to the counter first. 

“Apparently, Hinata was sent to go get the food from Osamu for the meeting and found the small things he had prepared while waiting,” Hitoka began to explain as she picked up the cans and moved them to the shelves. “Though he didn’t see Osamu,” she muttered. “He assumed Osamu had left them for someone to grab and bring.”

“Mhm,” Kiyoomi hummed. 

“Um,” Hitoka nervously laughed as she stopped holding two cans. “I don’t want to actually ask you to clean anything but could you wash the dishes?”

“Yeah,” Kiyoomi said, “no problem.”

“Thanks!” She smiled. Kiyoomi rolled up his sleeves, moving to the sink. He had to say, he was pretty impressed with how clean the sink was considering it was a sink. There weren't a lot of dishes, just what Osamu didn’t have time to clean while he was rushing around the kitchen wondering when Shouyou would be back with his groceries.

He began cleaning, there were a few pots and pans, spoons and forks, a whisk, and a knife or two.

“Hey, how do you feel about Atsumu?”

Kiyoomi had to grip onto the glass plate to not drop it. “What?” He asked, and Kiyoomi didn’t turn to look back at the blonde who still piled away groceries.

“I didn’t mean to intrude!” Hitoka quickly said, and Kiyoomi turned to look at her, hand still holding onto the plate. He loosened his grip on the dish so he wouldn’t shatter it in his hands. “I was just―” she shrugged, “wondering, you know? You’re always with each other, you’re helping him with his―” Hitoka paused. “Revenge.”

Kiyoomi stared for a bit, unable to figure out words to reply to her. He thought he was pretty good at speaking his mind, but for the first time, Kiyoomi felt stumped. “I―” he began, but he stopped, turning back to the sink. He looked down at the running water, staring as it hit the plate that he still held in his hands, watching the water run down the sink and fall into the drain. “Don’t know,” he finished. 

“Whatever it is,” Hitoka began to say, and she picked up the apron Osamu had thrown down on the counter, “I can tell you guys are really close.” She disappeared into the back office, leaving the mysophobe alone with nothing but the running sink. 

_‘’Really close’. We’re ‘really close’.’_ Kiyoomi thought to the shared hotel rooms ― why had he done that? The times he had hugged Atsumu during the bursts of feelings ― what possessed him to make that move? When he grabbed the twin’s hand to comfort him on the bench outside the medical room while waiting for Osamu ― what part of his brain told him to make that decision? “I think I do,” Kiyoomi muttered under his breath.

Hitoka popped her head in the doorway. “Did you say something, Sakusa?”

Kiyoomi popped his head up, his eyes snapping open, and he turned to look at her. He shook his head and moved his gaze back to the dishing, continuing to clean before he’d be found acting suspicious.

_‘I do.’_

* * *

With a sigh, Keiji got back to his office and closed the door behind him. He slumped to his office and sat at his desk, ready to type up the report with everything that Osamu had explained to him. There was a notepad in his pocket, and he pulled it out and dropped it on the desk before he typed in the password to his computer.

“What’s up?” 

Keiji glanced up and watched as Koutarou walked around the desk, wrapping his arms around him from behind as he buried his face in his neck. “Reports,” Keiji replied.

“For what?” Koutarou placed his chin on his shoulder. “Did something happen?”

“Osamu and Oikawa were kidnapped,” Keiji mumbled.

“What?” Koutarou stood up straight and spun Keiji in his chair to face him. “Wait, when?”

“Last night apparently,” Keiji replied with a sigh. “And Oikawa…” Keiji trailed off, and he bit his lip, turning back to his computer in the chair and opening up a fresh, new document.

“What about Oikawa?” Koutarou asked.

“Nothing but bad news.” Keiji let out a sad sigh. “Hinata had forgotten something from the store, and Osamu went to go get it. Apparently, Oikawa saw him in the hallway and tagged along,” Keiji explained. “We cannot tell Hinata this happened,” he muttered.

“Yeah,” Koutarou said. “He’d feel awful. Also―” Koutarou stopped himself, biting his lip. Keiji found that suspicious, and he raised an eyebrow. Koutarou wasn’t the type to just cut himself off from saying something.

“What?” Keiji asked.

“Nothing,” he said. “Do you want anything from the kitchen?” Koutarou switched topics.

“Mhm,” Keiji turned in his chair, and Koutarou grabbed his hands, smoothing his thumbs on the back of his hands. “Coffee? I might be here late. You can head home after too.”

“You got it,” Koutarou said with a smile, and he leaned forward, pressing his lips to Keiji’s. “I’ll be right back.”

“Mm-hmm,” Keiji hummed. Koutaoru pulled away from him with a smile, grabbing his cup off the desk before he slipped from the room.

  
  


The assassin sighed and turned back in his chair, eyes staring at the blank document in front of him. There wasn’t that much that had happened from what Osamu told him, but that didn’t mean that there still wasn’t a lot to type. He had to fill out everything and that included where they were when they first got taken.

The parking lot, what Osamu remembered from being held at gunpoint when Tooru had been knocked out, what they had done to him every step of the way. It was a lot, and it was especially a lot for someone like Osamu who had been done with all of that years ago. Keiji still remembered the day when Atsumu had told him that Osamu used to kill people. He had been so shocked that Keiji actually stopped breathing for a good second before Atsumu hit him in the stomach and knocked some wind into him.

Keiji sighed and cracked his knuckles. _‘Time to start, I guess.’_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Twitter @inuokkotsu


	33. The official Miya addition

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am posting early because why not? It's technically Monday for me already

**APR. 2**

When the day came, Atsumu wasn’t ready for it. It wasn’t even like it was his day, it was Osamu’s. He looked in the long, full-body mirror, straightening out the lapels of his jacket as he let out a satisfied smile with his appearance. The black tux looked good. His hair was swept to the side, soft and shiny. The shoes he wore felt snug. His suit was the perfect size for comfortability. He could give a speech. Atsumu could totally give a speech. All he had to do was stand in front of a bunch of people, all of which he knew, and give a speech of how he was proud of his brother; his twin; his other half; his―

“Atsumu.” 

Atsumu spun around. “Yah?”

“Calm down.”

“I am calm.”

“Sure, you are.” Kiyoomi stepped up to him and brushed his shoulder with his hand as if he was wiping off dirt ― Atsumu hadn’t seen anything. “And if we’re keeping up lies, Donald Trump isn’t a racist.”

“Ya know what?” Atsumu muttered. “That was too harsh, even fer ya.”

“You’re right,” Kiyoomi shrugged.

“Omi!” Atsumu grinned. “Yer sayin’ yer nice to me?”

“No.”

“Ya did!” 

“If I admit it, will it calm your nerves?” Kiyoomi asked.

“Maybe.”

Kiyoomi sighed, “I’m being nice to you.” A wide grin stretched on Atsumu’s face. It cracked Kiyoomi, and the mysophobe broke into a smile. “Stop that.”

“Didja just smile?!” Atsumu stepped closer to Kiyoomi, grabbing his arms. “Omi! I made ya smile.” Kiyoomi grabbed his wrist and pulled it off him. His hand slipped to hold Atsumu’s, fingers pressing against the back of the twin’s hand, thumb into the other's palm. 

“Shut up.”

“Fine,” Atsumu finally said. He headed to the door. “Sorry to leave ya all alone with everyone ‘n shit but as the _Best Man_ I’m gonna hafta check on the Groom.” Atsumu tugged on the lapels on his jacket in a confident, cocky way that made Kiyoomi chuckle under his breath, shaking his head slightly. “Ya’ll be alright?”

“I’m not a child.”

“In the settin’ of a lotta people, ya kinda are,” Atsumu said with a shrug as he moved behind the door. He held onto it and kept an eye on Kiyoomi from inside the dressing room. “If ya want, after I'm done calmin’ him down ― ‘cause I know he’s freakin’ out, that idiot ― I’ll come getcha?” Atsumu suggested. “Ya can stay in here till I can come back so ya won’t hafta be around people without me.”

Kiyoomi sighed. “Fine.”

“Fine?”

“Fine.” 

Atsumu smiled. “I’ll be back.”

* * *

Without knocking, Takahiro opened the door with a grin on his face. “Knock knock,” he said while stepping into the room. As he walked in, backing up into the door to softly shut it, he stared at the woman in front of him. “Holy shit,” he mumbled.

  
“What?” Hitoka turned. 

She wore a beautiful, white gown. The v-neck of the dress showed off her collar bones. The collar was lined with lace to the sleeves that lined the sleeves which hugged off her shoulders in the off-sleeve dress. The gorgeous necklace around her neck, the way the lights in the room hit the gems of it was so alluring; the matching set of earrings that dangled from her ears, it somehow managed to bring out her large, brown eyes. Part of her hair was tied back, the bits that were down were bouncy, blonde curls that sat on her shoulders. Her bangs were parted back and held down with a band that connected to the veil, some loose strands by her ear brought out a messy but cute look. The makeup was gorgeous only because it wasn’t much. Most of it was her natural beauty. Hitoka didn’t need makeup nor did she really like it. With the simple touch of a light foundation base, small wings, and fluffed eyelashes, Hitoka looked like a goddess.

Takahiro believed that only she could pull off a look like this. “Are you sure _we_ can’t get married?” He whined.

Hitoka laughed, and she pushed back some hair. She turned back to the mirror, straightening out her dress in her reflection. “I’m sure, Hana.”

He sighed. “Alright, fine,” Takahiro said as he walked up to her, “but if he _ever_ ―”

“Hana.” 

Takahiro frowned and crossed his arms. “I should’ve never introduced you. He came in and stole you from me.” A smile formed on his face, and she giggled again, shoving Takahiro in the shoulder. He wore a white tux, hair swept back with some gel he had gotten from Koutarou. There was some jewelry he grabbed, clear-gem earrings that sat in his earlobes. On one ear was a silver chain drop earring. "I wonder if I’m gonna look as gorgeous as you at my wedding," Takahiro said as he admired the bride.

“You think you’re going to get married?”

Takahiro furrowed his eyebrows. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Hitoka laughed and hugged Takahiro. “Kidding, Hana.” Takahiro hugged back ― she even _smelled_ pretty.

“You better be. I’ll be the best goddamn groom out there,” he muttered. Takahiro pulled away and touched her cheek, rubbing his thumb back and forth with a smile. “I love you, Token. I’m proud of you.” Hitoka took a deep breath through her nose and nodded. “You ready?”

“I think so,” she whispered. “I _know_ I want to, but I just,” she paused, “I’m scared.”

“It’s okay,” Takahiro said with a reassuring smile. “I’ll be waiting up there with him and Atsumu considering I have to walk down with that stupid idiot.” Hitoka laughed, and Takahiro brushed back her hair again. “You got this, Hitoka.”

“Thank you,” she said quietly. “I love you too.”

“I was wondering when you were gonna say it back.”

Hitoka laughed. “Okay, fine. Get out now, go help get things going.” He reached over and kissed her forehead. 

“I got it covered.” 

* * *

“Wouldja stop sweatin’? Yer disgustin’.”

“Thanks, ‘Tsumu. That really helps.” Osamu let out a sigh and brushed back his hair. “My god. She could totally say _‘no’_ at the altar.”

“Why would she do that?” Atsumu grabbed his brother’s shoulders and turned him to face him. “Listen to me, Osamu,” he spoke. “It’ll be fine. Everythin’ is gonna go smoothly. Yer gonna exchange the vows or whateva it is ya do up there, slip on the rings, get pronounced ‘ _husband ‘n wife’,_ and then kiss her and walk down the aisle. Nothin’ too hard, right?” He lightly slapped his twin’s cheek. “Yer gonna be fine,” he repeated for the twin.

“Yah,” Osamu whispered. He pushed his brother’s hands off of him. “Yah, whateva. Thanks.” Atsumu chuckled and stuffed his hands in his pockets. He watched while he rocked back and forth on the heels of his feet, looking with a smirk as Osamu fiddled in the mirror with his hands. Osamu looked at him through the mirror and sighed. “What?”

“Nothin’. Just proud of my lil brother.”

Osamu turned around. “Yer two minutes older than me.”

“Still older.”

“I hate cha,” Osamu said with a sigh as he looked back in the mirror. “Fucker.”

“Shithead.”

“Bitch.”

“Dick.”

“Gay.”

“Really?” Atsumu muttered. “Not even an insult.”

“I know,” Osamu said as he turned with a grin. “Just wanna excuse to bring up Sakusa.”

“What?” Atsumu rolled his eyes. “Go away. Yer disgustin’. I'm leavin’ ya.” Atsumu started to make his way to the exit. He stopped with his hand on the door handle and sighed. “Love ya, idiot.”

Osamu scoffed with a laugh. “Love ya too.”

* * *

“Well, this is weird,” Hajime said with a groan as he plopped down in the chairs. He leaned back, shoved his hands in his pockets, and looked over at the man he took a seat next to. 

Issei raised an eyebrow at him. “What is?” He asked.

“Not seeing you with Hanamaki,” the sniper said with a grin. Issei sighed and shook his head. “What?” Hajime scoffed. “It’s true.”

“Weird not seeing―” Issei bit his tongue. “Nevermind.” Hajime’s face dropped, and he let out a small sigh. He stared at the ground in front of him, tapping his finger on his arm. 

“He’s by the doors,” Hajime muttered as he nudged his head behind him. Issei looked over his shoulders to check. There he was. Tooru in a wheelchair by the front doors. He had his hands in his lap, a dull look on his face as he stared at his feet. It was like his eyes were screaming to let him stand. “His surgery for the prosthetic is still being scheduled.”

“He took it?” Issei asked as he looked back at him.

“Of course he did,” Hajime said with a scoff. “Very quickly, might I add. He didn’t even want to hear about the consequences.”

“Which are?”

“Taking care of it plus relearning to walk.”

“I assume you’re going to help with that.”

“Of course,” Hajime said quietly. He stood up and slapped Issei on the shoulder. “I’m gonna put him somewhere where he can watch. It’s about to start.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Go take care of Oikawa,” Issei muttered. Hajime nodded and left back down the aisle. 

  
  


The fighter sighed and leaned back in his chair. If he was being honest, it was boring without Takahiro, but he was the _‘maid of honor’_ or whatever that was when a bride had a man as the one by her side _. ‘Man of honor’?_ No one was really sure when it came down to it but Hitoka picked Takahiro. 

He separated from Issei when they arrived. The torturer wore his pajamas and carried his tux in a garment bag. There was a grin on his face when he patted Issei on the shoulder and said, _‘Don’t be scared of the Miyas or Yachis. Their family is nice. Just sit down somewhere and wait for it to start, but don’t just glare at everyone with your resting bitch face.’_

How was that even possible? All Issei had was a resting bitch face. Issei sighed. _‘Impossible.’_

* * *

Not surprisingly, the food that was at the wedding was amazing. There was a large spread of just about everything, and there were a few assassins that were more than just enjoying it. 

“Hinata! Come here! Try these,” Koutarou said as he held out a small plate toward the other. It was piled with random foods. Shouyou’s head popped up with a smile, and he moved in front of Koutarou, taking one of the small treats off the plate and popped it in his mouth.

“My god,” Shouyou muttered.

“Good?”

“Good.”

Keiji stood off to the side, a sigh escaping his lips as he pinched the bridge of his nose. He had been standing there for a good ten minutes while Shouyou and Koutarou were attempting to try one of everything on the tables. At least they weren’t taking multiple of each thing and completely depleting the supply, thank god for that. Tobio stood next to him, hands in his pockets. He looked kind of uncomfortable as he stood socially awkward. Though he wasn’t like he used to be, Keiji could see a change. Before he used to flinch when someone walked past him, but Keiji watched as one of the Yachi’s cousins walked by and almost brushed his shoulder, and Tobio didn’t move an inch.

Shouyou ran up to Tobio with a smile, and he stopped in front of him with a grin on his face.

“What?” Tobio asked.

“Try one.” Shouyou held the same pastry that Koutarou had him try in front of his face. “Go on,” he tempted, waving it around. Tobio sighed and leaned forward, letting Shouyou feed it to him. His lips brushed the other’s fingers, and he pulled away, heat rising in the back of his neck as he brought his hand to cover his mouth. Shouyou didn’t seem at all affected, still smiling as he lifted his eyebrows. “So?”

“It’s―” Tobio stuttered, “it’s good.”

“Right?” Shouyou went back to the table, grabbing more that he could find. He froze as he was reaching for a new food when there was a crime of some bells. “What does that mean?” Shouyou asked while turning to Koutarou.

“Wedding is about to start,” Keiji replied, and he grabbed Koutarou’s arm, pulling him away from the tables. “Come on. Find a seat.”

* * *

The music started, it was light and gorgeous, and it was something that wasn’t normally played at most weddings. They wanted to go for something unique, and it made all the more difference to the feel of the wedding as if there was a spark that was there that wasn’t for others. 

Walking down the aisle was each bridesmaid and groomsman, one at a time paired together. It was basically a friend of the Miyas and a Yachi each until they reached the _‘maid of honor’_ and best man when it was Takahiro and Atsumu. 

They locked arms, walking down, and both of them had a grin on their face. Before they had entered the room to walk down the aisle, they had shoved each other like assholes. When they split off to their own sides, it was clear that Takahiro had stabbed Atsumu in the side with his finger. The twin winced and threw him a dirty look. Issei had rolled his eyes as he watched it go down from where he was sitting; Kiyoomi scoffed, able to witness the entire thing from the view he was at.

Then the music changed, it was still beautiful, but they all knew what it was time for. Everyone had turned in their seats to watch as the bride entered the room, the veil over her face as her arm locked with Keishin ― the one she had chosen to walk her down the aisle.

Osamu’s breath hitched from up front as he shifted in his stance; Takahiro grinned from the side as he looked over at the nervous groom; Atsumu couldn’t help but smile as he watched her take her first steps down the aisle; Tooru shifted in his wheelchair a little, sitting up straighter and using the arms rests to help sit up; Tetsurou put a hand on Koutarou's shoulder as if to tell him to look even though he already was; Morisuke felt his own face get red just from looking at the gorgeous sight that was Yachi Hitoka.

Hitoka made it to the altar, hugging Keishin before he split off to the side. She stood in front of Osamu, and he swallowed back a lump in his throat before he reached forward. He lifted the veil from over her face and moved it back, his breath caught in his chest as he stared at her beautiful face.

“Holy shit,” he whispered.

“Don’t get distracted, Osamu,” Hitoka laughed quietly.

“Yer kiddin’, right?”

  
  


The priest talked and talked, and Osamu wasn’t even bothered by how long they were taking. He just stared at Hitoka, even when she would nervously glance over at the priest and nervously bite her lip. There was something about her that was the spotlight of the room, and Osamu couldn’t and _wouldn’t_ fixate on anything else. If weddings were supposed to make you feel like you were the only people in the world, they more than accomplished that.

Osamu always thought that exchanging vows would’ve been one of the hardest bits. The moment he stepped up on that stage, the words he spent days writing slipped from his mind. Instead, he spoke from scratch, right then and there, speaking his mind as the words rolled off his tongue. As Osamu spoke more and more, it became more confusing to the people who were sitting in the seats. Hitoka's face read differently. She understood. It was clear he was saying whatever without a care in the world, only paying attention to if Hitoka understood because it wasn’t for anyone else to hear, only her.

When they slipped the cold rings on each other’s fingers, Osamu felt his chest lighten. 

_“I now pronounce you husband and wife.”_ The priest looked at Osamu with wrinkles at the corners of his eyes and a smile on his face. _“You may kiss the bride.”_

Osamu did without hesitation, that was the one thing he was pretty confident about. He grabbed her cheek with one hand, her waist with the other to pull her in, and he pressed his lips to hers. Hitoka wrapped her arms around him, humming with a smile as she kissed him back. 

He expected to hear the loud cheering and clapping around him from his friends and family, but Osamu heard nothing. 

It was really just the two of them.

It was just the two of them when they walked hand and hand back down the aisle and disappeared into the back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Twitter @inuokkotsu
> 
> OSAYACHI CHAPTER WOOO

**Author's Note:**

> Twitter @mattsuhana


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